


A Little Problem

by RavenclawAngel



Series: Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, De-Serumed Steve Rogers, Dimension Travel, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kryptonite, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Clark Kent, Whump, Worried Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:26:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27576485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenclawAngel/pseuds/RavenclawAngel
Summary: When a mission in Gotham goes horribly wrong the team is presented with an unexpected problem and Steve wonders if just being Steve Rogers is enough.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Steve Rogers, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
Series: Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872217
Comments: 25
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third in the series. I would suggest reading the first two before diving into this one.

The Joker's laugh echoes throughout the streets of Gotham, crazy and cruel. It rings in Bruce’s ears as he chases him through the endless maze of back alleyways.

“Robin report.” Bruce grunts as he leaps over a fallen trash can. Over the comms, Dick updates him on the status of his ongoing fight with Mr. Freeze on the other side of the city. Dick’s abruptly cut off as he’s tossed from the roof. Bruce’s heart stutters, though he never breaks his stride.

“I’m okay.” Dick says after a few agonizing moments of silence and Bruce feels like he can breathe again. He has his misgivings about letting Dick tackle someone like Mr. Freeze alone, but Dick has been pushing for more independence in the field recently. Steve and Bucky’s influence no doubt; filling his head with stories of Brooklyn and the war.

“Hurry up Batsy!” The Joker cackles as he rounds a corner, “The show is about to begin!”

Bruce races around the corner. Immediately something wraps around his legs and he stumbles. He looks down at the tangle of vines weaving their way up to his waist. He grabs a baterang and with a flick of his wrist cuts himself loose. Poison Ivy, The Joker, and Mr. Freeze. Three supervillains working together. Tonight has officially become a Code Orange; a Justice League level threat.

“Code Orange. This is a Code Orange.” Bruce reports into his comms, “Poison Ivy has just joined the fight.”

“I will alert the Justice League sir.” Alfred’s voice is comforting in his ear.

Bruce doesn't bother to reply as he once again takes off after The Joker, determined not to lose him.

A new voice enters the comms.

"This is The Captain. We are in route to you now."

Bruce can hear wind in the background. Clark must be flying them.

"Robin is handling Mr. Freeze on the Southside. Poison Ivy is on Lark Street, and I am pursuing The Joker west." Bruce reports.

"Sarge and I will take Poison Ivy. Superman will give Robin backup before making his way to you." Steve's voice is authoritative and calming.

Bruce closes in on The Joker as he ducks into an abandoned balloon factory. It’s one of the few bases he’s been using, but not his main base. Bruce still hasn’t managed to find that yet.

Over the comms he hears Dick cheer, distant and tinny, the arrival of Superman. He lets out a sigh of relief. Dick is safe with Clark. With one less worry on his shoulders, Bruce speeds up, devoting all his attention to the task at hand.

"It's over Joker. Superman, The Captain, and Sarge are rounding up your companions as we speak." Bruce growls, "it's back to Arkham for you."

The factory is dim and The Joker disappears into the long shadows. Bruce slows down looking for any hint of that ghastly gin.

"Oh are the boy scouts here already?" The Joker laughs and his voice bounces off machinery, "perfect."

Bruce spins and sees The Joker by a broken conveyer belt, his grin razer sharp. Bruce’s blood freezes at the sight of that smirk. The Joker shouldn't be happy. With an unexpected gracefulness, The Joker scales the machinery and leaps onto the rusted catwalks above. Bruce doesn’t hesitate to follow him into the darkness.

"I've been waiting for you to call in the goody two shoes calvary all night.” The Joker says conversationally, “I've been dying to play with them."

For a heartbeat Bruce is still as The Joker's words sink in. In his own weird way, The Joker is almost as protective of Gotham as Batman is. Having other heroes in the mix would only ruin the sick twisted game that The Joker thinks the two of them are playing. No, there is only one reason The Joker would tolerate other heroes in his city. Bruce leaps into action. He sprints towards The Joker, shouting into the comms.

"Superman pull back. They have kryptonite."

Clark's reply is drowned out by Joker's howling glee.

"You are just too funny Bats." The Joker chuckles and Bruce's hand clenches with a desire to punch that smug look off his face. Bruce doesn’t answer, just growls his disgust for the man, as he reaches for him. The Joker flips over the side of the catwalk, leaving Bruce’s fist to close on nothing but air.

From down below The Joker looks up at him, his eyes glowing with malice.

“You’re so busy worrying about your boy in blue, you’re forgetting to protect your toy soldiers.”

Suddenly Bucky’s shouting in his ear.

"Cap's down! I need backup!"

Bruce spins on his heal. He can hear The Joker getting away, but it doesn’t matter. Worry twists in his stomach. It’s a new feeling. Only a few short months ago, the alert would have warranted nothing more than mild concern. The kind of professional worry one got when a coworker calls in with the flu. Certainly not worth losing the chance to capture The Joker over. He’s still not sure how to handle these new feelings where his team is concerned.

Bruce is the closest to where Bucky and Steve were fighting, but he’s still the last to arrive. Clark glances up at him, his face grim. Dick looks downright alarmed as he stares at Steve’s ashen face. Bucky doesn’t acknowledge his presence as he monitors Steve’s pulse.

Bruce does a quick scan of Steve’s unconscious body. There’s a sheen of sweat covering his face and his breathing is strained, but at least he’s breathing. There’s no blood either, another good sign.

“What happened?” Bruce asks. He stops next to Bucky, who looks positively murderous.

"We were fighting Poison Ivy and she blew I don’t know - pollen or something - at Cap and then he just collapsed."

"I thought the serum protected him from that type of thing." Clark says.

"It's supposed to." Bucky grunts.

"Superman take him back to the cave. We'll meet you there. I want to run blood tests." Bruce says.

Gently Clark scoops Steve up. He hangs there limply, his head rolling back. Tucked tight against Clark’s chest, he looks unnaturally small. Bruce looks away. It feels wrong to see someone as strong as Steve look so vulnerable. From the way Dick and Clark avert their eyes it’s clear they feel the same. Only Bucky seems able to stomach the sight.

Clark flies off, still cradling Steve like a child. Silently, the others head to the batmobile. The drive back is tense. Worry stifles any attempts at conversation. Bucky barely waits for the car to stop before leaping out. He halts next to one of the medical cots Bruce keeps in the cave for emergencies.

"His heartbeat is steady, but his breathing has gotten worse," Clark reports, "I x-rayed him but couldn't find anything useful."

Bruce nods. He crosses the room to a cabinet labeled "medical supplies" in Alfred’s neat handwriting. After a bit of rummaging he pulls out the medkit. He takes out alcohol wipes and a needle. Three sets of worried eyes watch him as he pricks Steve’s skin. Blood, bright red, fills the syringe. Then, just to be safe, Bruce takes a few more vials.

He takes a vial to the computer and begins typing. Clark and Dick hover over his shoulder. Bucky doesn’t leave Steve’s side. Instead he takes a seat in the fold out chair by Steve’s head. After a few seconds his hand reaches out and wraps itself around Steve’s clammy hand.

Bruce shifts uncomfortably. He's never had the cave so filled with people before.

"Go inform Alfred of the situation." Bruce says gruffly to Dick. Dick hesitates with a glance at Steve.

"Go on," Bruce says gently, "it will take a while for the computer to give us any results."

With a nod Dick scampers towards the stairs.

"You should head back to Metropolis." Bruce says to Clark. He keeps his eyes firmly on the computer. He doesn't want to see the worry shining on Clark's overly expressive face.

"I can't leave now."

"In 4 hours and 23 minutes the Daily Planet will open. Clark Kent needs to be there. It's suspicious that you and Steve always call in sick on the same day, especially when it's the day after Superman and The Captain have been seen out."

Clark frowns, his eyes straying to Steve, who hasn’t moved since he was laid on the bed.

"I will call you if his condition changes." Bruce promises. Bucky looks up from his vigil over Steve to give Clark an encouraging nod.

"I'll be back after work." Clark says, guilt at abandoning them now thick in his voice. Bruce nods, expecting as much. He suspects it will be a while before his cave returns to its normal status as a fortress of solitude.

"And Clark," Bruce adds, "whatever cover story you come up with for Steve, let it be something that will keep him out of work a while."

Apprehension engrains itself deeper into Clark's face but he agrees to do so before flying back. Silence descends over the cave, broken only by the fluttering of bat wings above.

"I'm not leaving him,” Bucky says breaking the silence, “so if you're thinking of a way to kick me out, forget about it."

Bruce glances over at him. Bucky has fished a cloth out of the medkit and is mopping Steve's brow with it. It's strangely intimate and Bruce finds himself averting his eyes so as to not intrude on the private moment.

"I wouldn't." Bruce says.

Bucky stares at him, assessing his honesty before nodding. He turns back to Steve and the cave lapses back into silence. Of all his new teammates Bucky is the quietest. Steve has a friendly way about him that invites conversation and Clark’s midwestern roots show strongly in his ability to idly chitchat about anything. Then there’s Dick whose chattiness is unparalleled. Bruce and Bucky are the only two who savor the silence for what it is, with no need to sully it with words.

Bruce stares at the computer screen, comparing the new blood samples with the ones he already has on file. So far, he sees no difference between the two and nothing that warrants Steve's current state of unconsciousness. This requires more in-depth tests.

Alfred's and Dick’s mismatched footfalls pull Bruce away from the screen. He gives his butler and ward a tired smile.

"How is he?" Dick whispers.

"The same." Bruce says, "you should go to bed."

"I'm not sleepy" Dick insists. Bruce gives him a skeptical look but doesn't argue. He understands, he doesn’t feel much like sleeping either at the moment.

"Alright, take a seat." Bruce says turning back to his computer. Dick pulls up a chair. Alfred forgoes his usual offering of tea and places a large mug of black coffee next to Bruce’s elbow. Bruce nods his thanks.

“Let me know if you require any further services,” Alfred says, his eyes lingering on Steve’s still form, “or if there is a change in Captain Roger’s status.”

“I will,” Bruce says. He takes a sip of his coffee. The bitterness burns as it goes down, chasing away any post-mission tiredness.

"What's wrong with him?" Dick asks.

Bruce starts the computer scanning the next the vial of blood, adding more tests as he goes.

"Not sure yet."

"Is he going to be okay?"

Bruce doesn't answer. He can't answer that. He promised himself that he would never lie about or minimize the risks of the job to Dick. If Dick is going to be involved in this life, he deserves to go in with eyes open. And the truth is, sometimes people die. Dick has already had a taste of that. There are mugging victims they arrive too late for and the Joker almost always leaves a trail of death in his wake. This would be the first time losing a teammate though. This loss will cut deeper and Bruce isn't sure he knows how to guide Dick through it.

In the face of Bruce's non-answer Dick goes quiet. Bruce runs more tests which all come back negative. A few hours later, with his eyes burning from lack of sleep, he glances over at Dick.

He's asleep, curled up on the chair with his cape draped over him. He looks so small. Not for the first time Bruce wonders what he was thinking bringing someone into this life. He adjusts the cape around Dicks shoulders and glances over at Bucky.

His head is bent low and Bruce can’t see his face, but he's sitting far too stiffly for him to be anything but awake. Bruce opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. There is no good news he can offer and any platitudes will fall flat. He closes his mouth. The best thing he can do is find out what is causing Steve's unconsciousness. He pushes away the exhaustion and gets back to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, and the team, are left reeling from the consequences of Poison Ivy's pollen.

Alfred rises just before sunrise. In the dim pre-dawn gray of the morning he shuffles into the kitchen and takes out numerous pots and pans. He always wakes up extra early when Bucky and Steve visit. Super soldier metabolisms demand super soldier sized meals. How the army kept them fed, Alfred has no idea.

He cooks eggs, and bacon, and sausage, and hashbrowns, and toast, and chocolate chip pancakes with maple syrup because Dick has an insatiable sweet tooth. Then he stacks several plates expertly on the tray and heads down to the batcave. He never heard Bruce come up last night and it's not the first time the man has fallen asleep at his computer.

As he descends the steps Bruce comes into view. He’s slumped over the computer, his head tucked into his arms atop the keyboard. Next to him is Dick, curled up in his chair and wrapped in both his and Bruce’s capes. Alfred lingers on the sight, smiling softly. Then his eyes travel further into the cave towards Bucky and Steve. Bucky is asleep, his chin buried into his chest and arms crossed. Steve is…

“Oh my!”

The tray slips from his hands. Plates shatter as they hit the ground, spilling breakfast across the cave floor. Bucky and Bruce are on their feet immediately, both ready to fight. Dick flails under the capes and crashes to the floor. All eyes find Alfred, but he doesn’t notice. He can’t tear himself away from the sight of Steve.

At the sound of the crash Steve bolts upright. The thin sheet falling away to expose his bare chest. A chest that only hours ago had been a wall of solid muscle. Now Alfred can see every rib beneath tightly drawn skin.

Bruce follows Alfred’s gaze. His face spasms at the sight of Steve small form. Wordlessly he turns back to his computer and pulls up the results of the tests he ran just before falling asleep. He finds nothing useful in them.

Dick tries to cover an audible gasp with his hands. His eyes flicker between Bruce and Alfred, searching for guidance. When none comes, he goes back to staring at Steve.

Bucky recovers from his shock the fastest, his face morphing into a slight smile.

"How you feeling pal?"

"Like my chest is on fire" Steve coughs, bringing his hand up to rub his boney chest. He freezes as he runs his hand over his bony ribcage. It feels sickeningly familiar. Blinking the sleep from his eyes he stares down at his body.

"Buck," Steve says quietly, "what happened to me?"

He stares at himself in horrified fascination. He breathes deeply and listens to the way it rattles in his lungs. It’s been over half a century since he last heard that sound, yet he recognizes it instantly. His eyes travel from his chest to his skinny arms. There’s an ache deep in his muscles. Not the normal ache that always follows a fight, but the more painful ever-present ache of muscles not strong enough to carry the body.

Bucky flashes Bruce a look that’s desperate for answers. Bruce stares helplessly back.

“I’ll put on a pot of tea,” Alfred says as the panic laden silence stretches on. At the sound of Alfred’s voice, Bruce snaps out of his shocked trance. He grabs a syringe from the medkit.

“I need to take another blood sample.” He mutters. Steve holds out a thin arm. Bruce grabs it, his fingers able to wrap all the way around Steve’s slight wrist. He can feel Steve’s pulse fluttering beneath his hand. Heart troubles. A faint memory of Steve mentioning that crosses his mind. He makes a note to have Steve give him a full report of his issues later. For now he gets to work drawing the blood, keeping his face schooled into a neutral expression.

With the sample in hand, Bruce brings it back to the computer and pulls up Steve’s previous samples for comparison. The difference is immediately apparent.

"The serum...it's gone."

“What? How?” Steve asks. He stands up, keeping one hand around the waist of his now comically too large pants, and walks over to Bruce.

“I don’t know, but it must have been whatever was in Poison Ivy’s spores.” Bruce says. He glances over his shoulder at Steve to gage his reaction. Steve’s face is carefully blank as he stares at the results on the screen.

"But we can reverse it, right?" Bucky asks. Bruce doesn't answer. The serum is a scientific marvel. One that, according to Steve, nobody has ever been able to crack. And while Bruce is in many ways a genius, he is not a biologist. When it becomes apparent that Bruce won’t respond, Dick answers instead.

"Of course we will!"

A tiny smile flits across Steve’s face. It quickly dies however, when he turns to face Dick and realizes that they are the same height. His stomach flips, but he tamps down on the medley of feelings racing through him. He’s just lost so much, he refuses to lose his dignity too by breaking down in front of his team. Besides, he can tell that Bruce is unnerved by his new appearance and Bucky looks like he’s moments away from a panic attack. Right now, they both need someone to be strong.

"We need to call Clark and let him know the spores had an effect," Steve says, privately grateful at how even and calm his voice sounds, "then I want to take some blood samples to Tony and Bruce. Let's have their computers take a crack at it… And I think I need a change of clothes."

Bruce dials Clark while Alfred, Dick, Bucky, and Steve go upstairs to find him a change of clothes.

“There’s an update on Steve’s condition.” He says in lieu of a greeting. Clark doesn’t say anything. Instead he hears a click. Thirty seconds and one gust of wind later, Clark lands in the cave.

"Steve's awake?" He asks hopefully.

"Yes. He's upstairs with Alfred," Bruce says, "trying to find clothes that fit him."

Clark cocks his head, "What’s wrong with the clothes he was wearing?"

Bruce gives him a look that verges on pity, “You’ll see.”

Bruce invites him upstairs and Clark follows. A deep sense of foreboding takes root in the pit of his stomach. They find Bucky first. He sitting on an antique couch in the spacious living room filled with décor that costs more than Clark’s apartment. Selena, a sleek black cat, perches herself on his lap, though Bucky doesn’t seem to notice. His face is buried in his hands.

“Bucky?” Clark says. Bucky grunts what might be a greeting, though Clark isn’t sure. Steve’s noticeable absence and Bucky’s demeanor only causes Clark’s trepidation to grow.

Footsteps pull Clark’s eyes away from Bucky as Alfred comes down the stairs. Behind him follow Dick and a pale blonde boy. Clark freezes and looks down at his suit. He hurriedly tries to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Superman would be in Bruce Wayne’s house. Bruce should have warned him that Dick had a friend over.

"Hi Clark." The blonde boy says in an unmistakably familiar voice.

Clark blinks and then gapes at the boy – no man – in front of him.

“Steve?” He says weakly. Steve winces and flashes him a self-conscious grin. The more Clark looks the more he can see Steve in the bright blue eyes and the wry curve of his smile.

"What happened to you?" Clark asks and he knows it’s rude, but he can’t stop staring at him. He’s so _small_. Steve has occasionally mentioned being a scrawny kid, but this is downright tiny. Clark has a strong urge to fly Steve to the farm so Ma can fatten him up.

"Poison Ivy's spores as best we can tell," Steve shrugs, "want to give me a lift back to Metropolis? I need Tony to take a look at my blood."

Clark nods dumbly. Steve steps closer. He looks so young. Has Steve always been so young? Clark hooks an arm around Steve waist, holding back a grimace. He’s so skinny. Clark is afraid of breaking him. Bucky joins them on Clark’s other side. There’s a comfort in the fact that Bucky feels the same; solid, strong, and not like he’s about to snap in half at a strong wind.

The trip back to Metropolis is slower than normal. An illogical part of Clark is afraid that if he goes to fast Steve’s new body will break. It’s ridiculous, but he can’t make himself speed up. He can tell Steve notices by the way he frowns as the wind gently ruffles his hair.

Clark considers dropping them off on the roof like he normally does, but then he wonders how Steve will get down? He doesn't have the upper body strength to scale the wall to the window. What if he falls? Clark flies through an open window, startling the cats, and drops them off in the kitchen.

"Thank you," Steve says, perhaps a bit stiffer than usual, but still faultlessly polite. He stands next to the portal that will take him to Stark Tower, clearly waiting for them to leave. Bucky and Clark stare back at him patiently.

“I don’t need help visiting Tony and Bruce.” Steve huffs.

“Who said you did? Maybe I just want to drop in on Stark and ask him to take a look at my arm. It was a bit squeaky yesterday.” Bucky says. Steve glares and then rolls his eyes. He pushes a button and the red light glows.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as he's pulled between dimensions. He feels himself being yanked in different directions more roughly than usual. When he’s dumped out at his destination, he’s left gasping for air and clinging to Tony’s marble countertops. He waits for Friday's customary greeting, but it never comes. Confused, he looks around and finds nothing out of the ordinary. Except, of course, for the perpetual look of worry on Clark's face.

"Friday?" Steve says.

"Captain Rogers." Friday says in a tone Steve has never heard from her before. If he didn't know any better he would say she sounds uncertain.

"I will alert Mr. Stark to your arrival."

Tony and Bruce run up from the lab minutes later. Steve wonders exactly what it was Friday said to them. When they catch sight of Steve, the freeze. Their eye roam over Steve’s body and Steve fights not to cross his arms in defensiveness. Tony gives a low whistle.

“That you Cap?” He asks. Steve stands a little straighter. He feels like he’s being analyzed, like some sort of experiment that Tony and Bruce just can’t wait to dive into. Tony grins.

"I'd recognize that scowl anywhere. It is you!"

Steve rolls his eyes, "we ran into a situation with the serum. I was hoping for your help."

"Of course. We're always willing to help a pint-sized patriot." Tony smirks. Steve resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He can feel a migraine coming on. It's been a long time since he's had one of those.

The smirk drops off Tony's face at Steve's lack of response. Bruce steps around Tony, elbowing him on the way and sighing at his lack of tact.

"Of course we'll look into it. We just need to take some blood samples."

They bring Steve down to the lab. Bucky and Clark flank Steve like two overly protective guard dogs and Tony looks like he's valiantly trying to hold in multiple short jokes. Only Bruce manages to hold on to an air of professional calmness as they get to work. After the blood samples are collected Steve hands over the some of the spores that were left clinging to his clothes last night. Tony looks at it snorts.

"Are you saying Captain America got taken down by a weed?" Tony asks. Bruce elbows him in the side again. Hard.

"Don't underestimate Poison Ivy. She's a level 6 criminal according to Bruce." Clark says. Tony rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure she's the scariest plant lady on the block." Tony says as he feeds the spores into the computers with the blood samples.

"This might take a while," Bruce warns, "even if we figure out how the spores neutralized the serum, we’ll still have to figure out how to reverse it."

If it even is reversible. The thought hangs unspoken between them. Steve swallows down the fear and smiles.

"Understood doctor."

"Bah, give us a week at most," Tony says confidently, "and you'll be back to your normal 6'2 patriotic self."

Steve tries to feel a fraction of Tony's confidence. He can't. Being in this body is sore, exhausting, and humiliating. It's taking all of his optimism to just stay balanced about his current situation. He doesn’t have any left to spare thinking about the future.

"Thanks guys." Steve says giving them a weak smile, "we should get back through. Work tomorrow."

It's a weak excuse, but he can't bare standing another second in Tony's labs politely ignoring Tony's jokes and analyzing looks. He knows Tony doesn't mean anything by it when he calls him "pintsized" but the words hit a little too close to home. How many times had he been called "pintsized" "shorty" and "little guy" growing up? As everybody around him hit their growth spurts Steve had remained undersized and sickly skinny.

“What, getting tired already? Tony jokes. Steve just shrugs. Despite their clear desire to get to work, both Tony and Bruce escort them upstairs. The steps make Steve’s knees hurt. Only Bucky seems to notice, or perhaps he just remembers all the times Steve had to stop and rest halfway up the staircase to their old apartment. Either way, he doesn’t say anything – something Steve is immensely grateful about – just keeps a comforting hand pressed lightly against Steve’s back.

Tony and Bruce say their goodbyes, promising to contact them as soon as they find out anything helpful. Then in a flash of red light, Steve finds himself in his kitchen, forcing down a wave of nausea. Glancing at the clock tells him that it’s late afternoon.

"I should head to the store and get clothes that actually fit me for now, unless Dick has a dress shirt I can borrow for work tomorrow." He gives Bucky and Clark a slight grin that neither return. Instead they look at each other nervously.

"What?" Steve asks.

"Steve, you don't think you're going to work tomorrow, do you?" Clark asks. He speaks gently as if trying to sooth a great beast or pacify toddler. It rubs Steve all wrong. He crosses his arms.

"I don't need super soldier strength to hold a pencil."

Do they really think he that useless without the serum that he can't even draw?

"It's not that," Clark says, "but how do you expect to explain to our coworkers that you lost a foot in height and dropped half your body mass?"

"Oh." Is all Steve can say. Of course his new appearance will provoke questions. Questions that he can't answer.

"You could come with me to shelter," Bucky offers. Steve shakes his head, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It’s fine. I can take a few days without work.” Steve says. Bucky snorts and Steve doesn’t blame him. Taking a break is not something he’s exactly known for. Clark looks equally as unconvinced as he stares at Steve like he’s made of glass.

“Seriously,” Steve says, “I’ll be fine. Go home and feed Krypto.”

For a moment Steve isn’t sure Clark will leave. His brow is furrowed and his lips pucker into a worried frown. He glances at Bucky as if looking for _his_ permission to leave Steve. Steve has to fight back a scowl. He doesn’t need a babysitter.

“Go on.” Bucky says, “We’ll call you if we need anything.”

Clark nods, looking slightly mollified, and says his goodbyes. 

Steve scoops up Peggy, letting the kitten climb up onto his shoulder and heads to his room. It’s been a long day and he has a headache.

"Steve, you sure you're alright?" Bucky asks. As much as Steve would like to be annoyed, he can’t. The concern on Bucky’s face is too familiar and comforting. It reminds Steve of rainy Brooklyn nights when things were simpler and the only worries they had were how they were going to pay the rent that month.

"Yeah, just tired. It's been a long time since my body has been so..." he trails off, gesturing at himself. Bucky nods in understanding.

"I'll make us some dinner." Bucky says.

“Thanks,” Steve says. Feeding him is how Bucky used to express his concern over Steve and Steve expects that, if nothing else, he'll at least be well fed for the foreseeable future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve readjusts to his new old body.

The next morning Steve drifts around the apartment like a restless ghost. He had woken up at 6 AM for his normal morning run before work, only to find that even a light jog is now beyond him. Slowing down, he tries to content himself with a refreshing walk, but the meandering pace only reminds him of all that he’s lost. Determined not to have his day ruined before breakfast, he cuts his “run” short and heads back to his apartment.

Bucky is waiting for him with a supersized plate of bacon, eggs, and toast. He sets the plate in front of Steve as Steve takes his seat at the kitchen table. Starving, Steve dives in. Only a quarter of the way through his massive breakfast his stomach forcefully reminds him that he doesn’t have a super soldier appetite anymore. Sighing, Steve pushes the plate, still overflowing with food, away.

Bucky's brow knits in worry.

"Are you sure you don't want to come to the shelter?" He asks, "we just got in a litter of kittens."

Steve smiles, "I'm sure."

"You can't just be kicking around Metropolis all day," Bucky says, "I know it's safer than Brooklyn, but you're a magnet for people's fists."

Steve snorts, "I am not."

Bucky shoots Steve a disbelieving look and crosses his arms. He looks ridiculous with an apron on and a spatula clenched in his metal fist.

“I can’t even begin to list the number of times you were punched in the head, and I’m not even including all the times it happened during the war.” Bucky says.

“I promise to try not to get punched in the head,” Steve says rolling his eyes. He has to fight off a grin through. Bucky used to make him promise similar things back before the war too.

“I was actually thinking about heading to Gotham. I want to see if Bruce has a lead on any of the criminals that escaped the other night.” Steve says.

Bucky nods, "try not to antagonize any Gotham villains until I get off my shift."

"No promises there," Steve says, laughing at the dirty look Bucky shoots him. Steve shoos him out of the apartment shortly after. He watches as Bucky heads down the street towards the shelter before heading in the opposite direction towards the train station.

The Metropolis train station is crowded, stuffed to the brim with commuters on their way to work. Steve is trampled by men in business suits and elbowed by woman in nice dresses. He had forgotten just how unnoticeable he was in his tiny body. Steve draws his arms closer to his chest and scurries to his train.

Maybe he should have waited for Bucky, even without knowing his story people instinctively give Bucky a wide berth when he walks through a crowd. Steve shook his head in disgust, banishing the thought immediately. He is perfectly capable of catching a train without help.

Once boarded, he finds an empty row in the back of the train. He sinks into it with a sigh. Minutes later a large man enters the train and spying the last empty seat next to Steve beelines towards it. Steve is immediately squished between the man's frame and the window without so much as an apology. He lets his head thunk against the window and settles in for an uncomfortable ride.

By the time the train drops him off in Gotham, Steve has been tripped, shoved, and nearly sat on. And Gotham train station is hardly any better. He fights his way through the crowd and into one of the many waiting taxis. Steve flops into the backseat and gives the driver Wayne Manor’s address.

Wayne Manor looks as stately as ever as they pull up to it, and Steve feels a bit of positivity return to him at the familiar sight. Alfred opens the door at Steve approach and Steve grins wryly. Alfred could give Jarvis a run for his money when it comes to being an omnipresent force of polite butlery.

"Good morning sir. Master Bruce is in his office and Master Dick is still in bed."

"Still?" Steve asks. Alfred gives him a put upon sigh, as if to say 'young people.'

"He insists that sleeping in is a crucial part of summer vacation."

Steve laughs, stepping inside. Zitka, Dick’s orange tabby, meows at him lazily from the chair. Alfred shoos her away.

"Not that I have anything against cats," he sighs, "but I do wish Sergeant Barnes would content himself with finding nice Metropolis homes for his cats. Fur, it’s everywhere."

Steve glances around the opulent foyer. It’s as immaculate as ever.

"Sorry, I'll try to curb his enthusiasm." Steve grins. Alfred's eyes twinkle.

"Well, perhaps a few more cats wouldn't be so bad. Master Dick does enjoy them so."

Alfred drifts away to dust and Steve smiles. That had been the most normal conversation he's had since waking up like this. No worried glances, no comments on his size… it’s nice. Steve is still grinning as he knocks on Bruce's office door. He hears Bruce grunt, which he takes as permission to enter. Bruce looks up.

"Steve? Is everything okay?" His pen is down in an instant.

“Yes, I just stopped in to see if you have any leads on The Joker and the others. I think we should try to get the jump on them, so they don’t take us by surprise next time.” Steve says, but Bruce isn’t listening. Bruce looks past him, as if waiting for someone else to enter.

"Did Clark drop you off?" He asks.

"No, I took the train."

"Alone?" Bruce says in a tone that Steve has only ever heard him use with Dick. It’s a mix of concern and exasperation.

"Yes alone." Steve says. He crosses his arms and tries to adopt a casual stance, but doesn’t quite manage to pull it off, "I don't need help riding the train."

"Of course not, and under normal circumstances I'd agree, but-"

Steve cuts him off. "No buts. I've been riding trains since before you were born."

"Captain, with three supervillains on the loose Gotham isn't safe right now, and you are not in fighting condition."

Steve scowls, his cheeks going pink with embarrassment. He wants to tell Bruce that he's gotten into more fights wearing this body than his other one. He’s not afraid of The Joker or the others and he certainly doesn’t need anyone else being afraid on his behalf. He holds his tongue though. Bruce has always had the mentality that nobody outside of Gotham is tough enough to handle Gotham villains, and the current situation is only exasperating that belief. Bruce doesn’t mean any harm by it. The idea of Bruce thinking him incapable does sting through.

Bruce sighs, "head down to the cave. I just have some work to catch up on and then I’ll be down. Gordon sent some surveillance video that might be helpful."

Dismissed, Steve heads down to the batcave. It’s as dark and gloomy as ever, but Steve can’t help the fond smile that crosses his face or the way his shoulders untense when he enters it. He takes a seat in Bruce’s chair and closes his eyes, enjoying the sounds of bats rustling about above. After a half hour, a new sound greets his ears. He opens his eyes and sees Dick coming down the stairs, his hair sticking up at odd angles in the back.

"Hi Cap. Bruce said you were down here." Dick says around a yawn. Steve really hopes that Bruce didn't wake Dick up just so he could babysit him.

"Just checking in, seeing if there’s any updates on the case." Steve says.

“Oh,” Dick says. He shuffles over, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Despite Alfred’s best efforts. The batcave is still, in fact, a cave. Steve breathes in, inhaling a lungful of the cave dust. He has only a second to register the dry silty taste on his tongue before his lungs seize up. Deep hacking coughs wrack his whole body.

"Oh no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Dick says. His hands flutter to Steve's back as if uncertain touching him will help.

"It's...fine..." Steve tries to gasp, but the words are lost in another round of coughing.

"I'll get Alfred." Dick says. Steve shakes his head, unable to choke out any words. He doesn't need Alfred, or worse Bruce, seeing him coughing up a lung. It's humiliating enough having Dick see this. Steve’s vision blurs as his head swims. The lack of oxygen burns. He takes slow shallow breathes. He knows how to talk himself down from an asthma attack, he just needs to be patient and resist the urge to give into the oxygen deprived panic that lurks on the edge of his consciousness. He counts his breaths, slowly letting them become deeper. It’s a well worn routine and Steve finds himself falling back into it easier than expected. _1, 2, 3, in. 1, 2, 3, out._ He can practically hear Bucky’s voice in his ear telling him when to breathe.

Dick is still hovering anxiously by his side, babbling about getting Alfred and Bruce between apologies. Guilt churns in Steve’s stomach for upsetting him so. He tries to look as reassuring as possible as he rubs his aching chest and puffs out a few deep breathes. He doesn’t think he quite pulled it off as the fear never wavers from Dick’s pale face. Distracted, neither notice the quiet approach of Alfred.

"Tea, Master Dick? Captain Rogers?" He asks primly. If he's perturbed by Steve's pale and shaky state, he gives no hint of it.

“Yes, thank you.” Steve says, sitting back in the chair. Tea sounds exactly what he needs. Too often as a child tea with honey was the closest thing to medicine as they got. As if reading his mind Alfred turns to Dick.

"Master Dick if you could fetch the honey. I've seemed to have left it on the kitchen counter."

Shooting Alfred a grateful look for an excuse to leave, Dick scampers upstairs.

Alone with the aging butler, Steve looks away, embarrassed by what Alfred has witnessed. For his part Alfred doesn’t seem to notice the stifling silence as he pours a steaming cup of tea. He holds it out to Steve, who takes it, painfully aware of how flushed his face still looks.

"Sorry," Steve says, though he's not completely sure what he’s apologizing for; perhaps for adding to Alfred's burdens. He knows Alfred his hands full with Bruce and Dick, he doesn't need to tend to his needs as well. Alfred frowns at him.

"Whatever for?" Alfred asks, a polite frown gracing his face. Uncertain at how to put it into words, Steve doesn’t respond.

"Captain Rogers, there is no reason to be embarrassed."

Steve looks down at his frail excuse of a body and then back at Alfred pointedly. Alfred stares back at him steadily.

"I've seen enough soldiers injured in the line of duty to know there is no shame in it." Alfred lightly scolds, "and I should think you have as well."

“I’m not a soldier anymore,” Steve says honestly. It’s been a long time since he truly considered himself one and now even considering himself The Captain felt out of reach. He's just half pint Steve Rogers, who's pretty good at taking a punch.

"Well, neither of us will serving on the front lines anytime soon, but it hardly means we stop being soldiers." Alfred says primly.

Steve’s eyes snap up. He takes in Alfred’s aged face, lined with all the years he experienced while Steve was sleeping in the ice, and remembers that Alfred is technically a few months younger than him. Looking at old people and wondering just how much younger than him they were had been an obsession when Steve had first come out of the ice. Now it’s something that only hits occasionally, but always with a stomach clenching jolt.

He wonders what it would have been like to grow old normally; for his muscles to naturally weaken with age and refuse to work as they did, to have people go from seeing him as a soldier, to a veteran, to an old man. An old man who is underestimated at every turn because young people don't understand what it's like to be old. Perhaps, in his own way, Alfred does understand his situation.

"I..." Steve stumbles over what to say as the realization hits him. He settles on "thank you."

"You're very welcome Captain." Alfred says, his eyes twinkling, "now I should probably inform Master Dick that the honey he is looking for mysteriously ended up under the kitchen sink."

A startled laugh bursts out of Steve. Alfred is far craftier than any of them give him credit for.

"And make sure when he brings it down to put in at least two healthy squirts. That's what mother always recommended for lung issues. Three if it's the flu." Alfred instructs.

Steve nods. Ma had done it the same way. Perhaps all mothers do. Alfred leaves the whole pot behind as he heads for the stairs. Steve wraps his hands around his cup. He breathes deeply, letting the warm steam soothe his aching lungs, and settles back in his chair to wait for Dick. For the first time all day, he can honestly say that he feels if not good, at least okay and for now, that's enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The League gets a lead.

Bucky and Clark appear on the front steps of Wayne Manor after work, just as Alfred finishes setting the dinner table for five. He welcomes them in and sends them straight down to the batcave.

In the batcave they find Steve and Bruce reviewing security footage sent over by Commissioner Gordon. Besides them Dick, uncharacteristically quiet, watches as well. Bucky crosses the room and stands behind Steve’s chair. He leans forward, resting his arms on it. Steve’s hair brushes against his arms and he resists the urge to ruffle it, knowing that the action would only embarrass Steve.

"What are we looking at?" He asks instead.

"It's security footage from a storage unit across the street from Greenthumb Greenhouse and nursery. Gordon sent it over an hour ago." Bruce says, his eyes never straying from the grainy video feed.”

“Anything useful?” Bucky asks. He squints at the screen as a blurry figure enters a building.

"The greenhouse went out of business a few years ago, but as of a week ago it looks like someone has been regularly breaking in." Bruce says.

“We’re thinking Poison Ivy,” Steve says craning his neck to look up at Bucky. He’s tense, sitting unnaturally still in his chair. He always does that when he’s trying to project an aura of calm that he doesn’t really feel. Looking closer Bucky can see the pinched look in the corner of his eyes and the way his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. The subtle body language of Steve Rogers that Bucky has spent an entire childhood learning. This is the Steve that Bucky can read best.

"This is great," Clark says watching the screen, "let's go check it out."

"The break ins occur between 11 PM and 3 AM." Bruce says, "we can set up a stakeout."

“Someone turned on the electricity and the water in the building as well.” Steve says, “if we’re lucky this isn’t just her hideout, but where she’s been growing the spores as well. This could really help Tony and Bruce synthesize an antidote.”

There’s a lilt of hope in his voice that warms Bucky’s heart; Steve isn’t giving up yet. Despite being kicked down his whole life Steve has remained an optimist at heart. And if Steve wants to hold on to hope, then Bucky plans on clinging along with him. He doesn’t even want to think about the possibility of Steve not getting the serum back.

An awkward silence hangs in the room after Steve’s comment. Clearly, neither Clark nor Bruce wants to voice the idea that reversing what happened to him may not be as simple as Steve thinks. Bucky watches as the pair exchange glances as if each trying to will the other to say something. He fights to keep the wry grin off his face. Even if one of them did speak up, it’s not like it would do anything. It is impossible to talk sense into Steve once he’s got an idea in his head; Bucky knows from ample experience. Bruce and Clark are saved from even attempting such a feat by the timely arrival of Alfred announcing dinner.

They march upstairs. Having missed lunch, Steve is famished and the smell of a homecooked meal sets his stomach grumbling. Yet, when Alfred sets the plate of chicken marsala Steve can do little more than pick at his food. It’s rich and heavy and Steve’s appetite is far from normal. He manages a few bites and then watches the others dig in with much more enthusiasm. If he can’t eat, at least he can plan. They only have a few hours before the stakeout.

“We should take shifts for the stakeout. Bruce, Dick, and Clark can take the first shift and Buck and I will do the second one.” Steve says.

The clattering of silverware on fine china stops. Bruce and Clark exchange looks. Finally, Clark speaks.

“Shifts are good.” He says neutrally. Bruce shoots him a scowl before turning back to Steve.

“Dick and I will run first shift. Clark and Bucky will fun second shift. You take point on the comms.”

“Alfred usually runs comms though.” Steve says. He raises an eyebrow and gives Bruce a stern look that Bucky knows once made a general cry. It doesn’t have quite the same effect on his pale thin face.

“Yes, and Alfred can assist you with the technology if you need it.” Bruce says. Steve gets that look on his face that Bucky knows means he won’t back down. Any lead on something that even has a hint of reversing his situation is far too important for him to not be involved in. Steve is famously bad at sitting on the sidelines of things. A glance at Bruce, shows him looking unconcerned. Bucky wonders just how much experience Bruce has with a stubborn punk Steve.

“I think we have a misunderstanding. I wasn’t requesting permission to go on the stakeout. I will be there.” Steve says firmly.

Dick, Clark, and Bucky all turn to watch Bruce’s reaction, like it’s a verbal tennis match.

“You can’t.” Bruce says.

"Why not?" Steve challenges, like he isn't the shortest one in the room and still wearing Dick's hand-me-downs. Bruce growls in frustration.

"Because," he snaps gesturing at Steve's tiny form, "you can’t fight like that."

“To hell I can’t,” Steve says, “I’ve fought plenty like this.”

The set in his jaw and the hard glint in his eyes reminds Bucky of the first time Steve had been rejected from the army. If the entire US government couldn’t deter him, Bucky doubts Bruce will.

"You'll endanger the whole mission." Bruce snaps. Pink splotches of color form on Steve's cheeks, a result of the combination of anger and embarrassment. _Mistake,_ Bucky thinks; Steve hates people thinking they know his limits better than he does. The fact that other people usually do know his limits better than he does is completely beside the point.

Sensing that the conversation is rapidly entering a death spiral, Clark jumps in.

“Bucky, you agree that Steve should man the comms right?” He asks, shooting Bucky a desperate pleading look.

Steve barely manages to refrain from rolling his eyes. Of course they would look to Bucky, as if Bucky is some sort of Steve wrangler. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from scoffing, reminding himself that it’s not Clark’s fault. A lot of folks in the 30s made the same assumption. They spoke to Bucky about Steve, like he wasn't in the room, or was just a cranky toddler and Bucky his long suffering babysitter.

“Sorry pal,” Bucky says, “you can tell Steve to stay home until you’re blue in the face, but you ain’t going to stop him.”

"So, you think he should come?" Clark clarifies, looking decidedly unthrilled at Bucky's response.

Bucky shrugs, "If you don’t let him come, he’ll just show up anyway.”

Steve ducks his head to hide his smile. Bucky had stopped trying to police his behavior by the time they were 15, deciding it was easier to drag Steve out of a fight than prevent him from fighting at all.

"Alright, I guess" Clark says, still looking uncertain.

“Can I talk to you Clark, in the other room?” Bruce says. He stands up, ignoring Steve’s scowl as he passes. Clark has the decency to flash Steve an apologetic look as he follows after him.

Alfred, washing the pots and pans from dinner, looks up from his place by the sink as they enter the kitchen. Bruce shuts the door behind them and turns to glare at Clark.

“You can not be serious about letting him come just because Bucky said so, right?” Bruce asks.

“Listen I don’t like it any more than you do, but if Steve plans to show up anyway I would at least prefer he be with someone who can watch his back and not sneaking off on his own,” Clark says. He runs his fingers through his hair and fidgets worriedly.

“He’s not going to show up. It’d be suicide and Steve isn’t that dumb.” Bruce scoffs. A sleek black cat slips into the room and rubs against his leg. He bends down to scratch her ears absentmindedly.

“No, of course he’s not dumb,” Clark says quickly, “But you weren’t there at the battle of Wakanda, you didn’t see the way Steve threw himself in front of Thanos. He doesn’t have very good survival instincts.”

Bruce rubs his forehead, pushing away the feeling of an oncoming headache, and collapses into a kitchen chair. Immediately his lap is occupied by a meowing little monster.

“Keeping an eye on Dick is already hard enough,” Bruce says, “We can’t keep an eye on both of them.”

Clark shrugs helplessly.

“Forgive me Sir for interrupting,” Alfred says as he dries the last pan, “but I fear that you are underestimating Captain Rogers.”

Bruce gives him a flat look, “You’ve seen him. He’s so small he makes Dick look big.”

“And there’s more to fighting than just size.” Alfred says, “The man is a trained soldier and you’d do better treating him like one and not like a child.”

“Not wanting a teammate to throw himself into the jaws of death isn’t treating him like a child,” Bruce says. Alfred raises a stiff eyebrow that has Bruce looking away, thoroughly scolded.

“Alfred’s right.” Clark says, “Steve can make his own decision about what he can or cannot handle.”

Bruce looks between Alfred and Clark and then looks down at the cat on his lap.

“I can’t be the only rational one here. You agree with me, right?”

The cat jumps off his lap. Bruce sighs.

“Fine,” Bruce grouses, “but you and Bucky are both going out with him and don’t come crying to me when he gets hurt.”

Bruce stomps past him and back into the dining room. Three sets of eyes all swivel to him. Steve is still glaring.

“Come on, we all have a stakeout to prepare for,” Bruce says, “and we need to modify a Robin costume for Steve.”

A look of satisfaction crosses Steve’s face and Bucky’s smirk only grows at Bruce’s pronouncement. Bruce tries to tamp down at the worry roiling in his stomach. Mark his words, this is a bad idea.

Dinner complete, they head back to the batcave to put their final hours before the stakeout to good use. Bruce and Dick prepare to take first watch, while Bucky takes up position manning the comms and Clark takes a seat at the computer. Steve, meanwhile, gets to work altering an old Robin costume. The red, green, and yellow is garishly bright and Steve doesn't understand this world's preoccupation with capes, but it has bullet proof reinforcing and Steve can't afford to be picky. He adds pants, how Dick handles Gotham winters in this costume is beyond him. He also ditches the cape. It will only get in his way.

First shift passes slowly and silently. Bruce does little more than grunt each time they ask for an update. Costume complete, Steve has nothing better to do than stare at the clock, watching as the minutes tick past. He feels the familiar thrill of excitement that always proceeds a mission. He can do this.

As their shift gets closer, Clark begins to fidget. His eyes repeatedly drifting towards Steve.

"If you want to take the comms for the-"

"Nope. I don't." Steve cuts him off firmly.

Clark frowns but lets the matter drop. As the clock strikes one, Clark, Bucky, and Steve fly out to relieve Bruce and Dick from their shift. He touches down on the rooftop across the street from the greenhouse. Bruce watches them, his eyes flickering over Steve as if disappointed that he actually showed up.

"Call us the moment there's trouble." Bruce commands.

"And be careful." Dick says his eyes wide and unusually serious. He stares at Steve for a few seconds too long before looking away awkwardly. Then the two of then disappear into the night, like shadows fading into black.

Bucky immediately takes up position in the shadows far away from the rooftop edge. Hindered by poor eyesight, Steve finds a place to hunker down as close to the edge as possible. Even then, it’s hard to make out the door from this distance away and Steve knows that he’ll have to rely more on Bucky’s and Clark’s eyesight than his own. Clark hovers by Steve’s elbow, as if waiting for the first sign of trouble to drag Steve away.

For the first hour there’s nothing to do but wait in complete silence. Halfway through the second hour Steve fears that the stakeout has been a waste of time. Clark looks relieved at the lack of activity. Then, just before Steve is going to call it, Bucky spots movement.

"There," he grunts, "by the dumpsters on the south side."

Steve looks, but he can only see blurry shadows.

"I see them." Clark confirms.

"They just entered the greenhouse through the side door. Let's move in." Bucky commands. He jumps off the roof, Clark is close behind. Steve is left behind to figure out his own way down. Spying a fire escape on the side of the building he hastily climbs down. His movements are ungainly and awkward as his body tries to recapture the fluid motions it once could do so naturally.

He jumps the last few feet to the ground, his knees groaning in protest, and hurries after Bucky and Clark, who have long since disappeared.

Slipping inside, Steve sees things are not going well. Several plants glow eerily green and Clark looks decidedly pale and nauseous as he stands among them. Bucky is fairing only slightly better. Several henchmen have guns pointed at him and Clark and Bucky doesn’t dare start a fire fight with Clark so unable to defend himself. The two parties glare at each other in a tense standoff.

Unnoticed Steve creeps closer to one of the glowing plants. He plucks a leaf to examine closer, only to have the green glow fade immediately once the stem is severed. Steve grabs another leaf and watches the glow fade. He glances around the room. Kryptonite plants are scattered across the room, though most of them are in the row closest to Poison Ivy. It will be tricky, but as long as he remains unnoticed Steve thinks he can destroy the plants and tip the odds.

He grabs a pair of sheers and snips the first plant at the root, smirking in satisfaction as its light goes out. Slinking between the flowering rows of greenery Steve prunes another one. Inching closer to Poison Ivy, Steve cuts down another on his way. Then things go wrong. He’s spotted. Not by Poison Ivy or her men, but by Clark.

Clark openly stares at him in confusion and horror as Steve darts between the aisles towards Poison Ivy. Steve shakes his head, wordlessly begging Clark not to give his position away, but it’s too late. One of the men follow Clark’s eyes and sees Steve. He fires. Just above Steve’s head a pot shatters. Daisies come crashing down on him. Bucky darts forward as the man fires again. He rips the gun from the man’s hands and punches him, sending him flying into a row of kryptonite plants. They smash to the floor.

“No!” Poison Ivy shouts as she watches her protection fade out. She spins on her heal and runs for the backdoor. Clark gives chase. A horrible coughing stops him dead in his tracks though. He turns and sees Steve covered in potting soil and pollen. His cheeks are an unhealthy pink and his eyes are squeezed shut. Thin wheezy breaths that barely take in any air break up the rib aching coughs. Clark’s stomach drops at the sight. If Poison Ivy's plants were enough to drop Steve when he was a super soldier, they're liable to kill him now

Clark scoops Steve up easily, painfully aware of the way Steve's whole body shakes with every cough.

"We need to get him to the cave." Clark says.

"No," Steve gasps, "go after them."

Clark ignores him, Steve could be dying in his arms. Trusting Bucky to clean up here, Clark takes off.

"Clark no!" Steve squirms in his grip, but now high above the buildings, Clark only clings to him tighter.

"It's just allergies! I'm fine!"

Clark halts in midair, a sheepish blush slowly creeping up his face.

"You're letting her get away!" Steve scolds, and despite the fact his voice still rasps from his coughing fit and he’s still so concerningly pale, Clark finds himself shrinking back at the force of his glare. Clark lands, setting Steve down with an apologetic look.

"Hopefully Bucky was able to find them." Steve huffs. He taps on his ear piece.

"Sarge, did you find Poison Ivy?"

He hears the harsh breathing of Bucky running over the comms.

"In pursuit." Bucky grunts. Satisfied, Steve doesn't bother asking for details.

Steve looks around the deserted Gotham street and sighs. They’re too far away to be any use to Bucky. Anger burns in the pit of his stomach. They were so close to pulling off a successful mission. He glares at Clark, who wilts under his gaze, managing to look even more sheepish and guilty. Steve drops the glare, letting his shoulders slump. It’s not Clark’s fault. Besides, who can stay mad at Superman?

“Come on, let’s head back to the cave.” Steve says, “Bucky shouldn’t take much longer.”

Things are tense back at the cave as they await a report from Bucky. The only sound that can be heard is the rustling of the bats from the shadows above. After another twenty minutes of radio silence from Bucky, Bruce sends Steve upstairs to change out of his soil and pollen encrusted clothes. Steve would like to protest – he’s not a child – but the pollen is still aggravating his sinuses. Securing a promise that someone will come get him the moment they hear anything, Steve heads upstairs to shower and change.


	5. Chapter 5

"Where you scared?"

Steve turns around. Dick has shed his mask and Steve can read the earnest questioning look on the boy's face.

Steve shakes his head, "No."

Surprise and doubt cross Dick’s face in rapid succession. Steve smiles softly. The fear of death is something he lost long ago, if he could even claim he ever had it at all. _Born with one foot in the grave –_ That’s what the doctors had already said – _always teetering on the verge of falling in._ Ma hated when they said that, but Steve hadn’t minded. They hadn’t been wrong and Steve sees no sense in sugar coating the truth or trying to hide from the inevitable.

“How were you not scared? You could have _died_!” Dick says. His face is pinched and his arms are pressed protectively against his chest.

“Everybody dies eventually,” Steve says gently, “I’m not afraid of death. I’ve got some good folks waiting on me on the other side.”

Ma, Peggy, most of the Howling Commandos, and so many others he lost along the way. Steve hopes heaven isn’t divided by dimensions.

“I guess bravery just comes naturally to you, huh?” Dick mutters, ducking his head.

“Being brave comes naturally with practice.” Steve corrects. Dick glances up at him. There’s a look of hero worship and awe on his face that is reminiscent of the night they first met. Steve feels himself blushing under such a look.

"Anyway,” he says hastily, “I should go wash off this pollen or I'll be wheezing for the rest of the night."

He leaves Dick standing int the hall. In the bathroom, he brushes off as much pollen as he can, holding back sneezes, before stripping off his borrowed uniform. Hot water gushes out over Steve’s body. He stifles a yawn as he scrubs the dirt out of his hair. He fights against the exhaustion that has settled in his bones, determined to be awake when Bucky returns. He can count super soldier stamina as one of the things he misses about the serum. On the bright side, caffeine will actually have an effect on him now so it’s not a total loss. Steve dries off and, ignoring the comfortable guest bed available to him, heads back down the cave.

Alfred is a mind reader. That is the only explanation Steve think of to explain the giant mug of piping hot coffee waiting by his seat in the cave. He gulps down the coffee and observes the room. Dick is nodding off next to Bruce who is writing his report. Clark is ignoring his own mug of coffee to stare thoughtfully in the distance.

The crackling of the radio startles them all.

“I got her.” Bucky says.

Steve melts into his chair in relief. The mission wasn’t a complete failure. Bruce stands up.

"Hold her. I want to question her before I take a closer look at the spores she was creating."

He heads to the batmobile, jerking his head for Dick to follow and the boy does so eagerly.

“Man the comms,” Bruce says over his shoulder and Steve jumps up to take the seat at the computer. As the batmobile roars out of the cave, Steve feels a presence drop into the seat next to him.

“How are you feeling?” Clark asks.

“Fine.” Steve says shortly, keeping his eyes firmly on Bruce’s half-finished report pulled up on the computer screen.

“That’s good,” Clark says awkwardly, “Ma has terrible allergies too.”

Steve hums in sympathy, but otherwise remains silent, He neither needs nor wants a conversation on his various weaknesses. His fingers tap the desk as he resists the urge to call in for a status report.

“I’m sorry,” Clark bursts out suddenly. Steve blinks.

“I saw you there and I panicked.” Clark continues, “I don’t have any excuse for it, so sorry.”

Steve opens his mouth, then shuts it. Nobody has ever apologized for treating him like the 95-pound weakling that he is and he’s not exactly sure how to respond to it. Not that he needs to as Clark continues rambling.

“You’d think I’d be better about handling people launching themselves into danger given all the experience I have with Lois, but I’m really not. And it’s not because you’re weak, it’s just that humans in general are so fragile.”

Steve is tempted to let him keep talking, just to see how long he will go – and knowing Clark it could be hours – but he looks sincerely apologetic and Steve takes pity on the man.

“Clark, it’s okay. You aren’t the first one to think that a fella who can barely run without giving himself an asthma attack might not be great at holding his own in a fight and you definitely won’t be the last.”

“Yeah, but the other guys weren’t your teammates.” Clark says, “I should know better.”

Steve smiles warmly at him, “thanks, but I don’t know how much I count as being part of the team when I’m like this.”

He gestures to himself.

“It won’t last forever,” Clark says.

“And if it does?” Steve asks, voicing for the first time the fear that has lingering in the back of everybody’s mind; this could be permanent. Steve may have to get used to counting his breathes during an asthma attack and hearing his irregular heartbeat pound every time he runs again. He has no doubt in his mind that he can adjust – he has from his perspective spent more time in this body than Captain America’s body – but it’s not a process that he’s looking forward to.

“Then it doesn’t matter,” Clark says immediately. Steve sighs, while he’s grateful for the thought, he’s also completely aware that he can’t be The Captain like this and most superhero teams have little use for an undersized asthmatic with a penchant for getting punched.

“I’m serious,” Clark says, “Who else is going to drag Bucky out of his flashbacks? Or make Bruce play nice? Dick still hangs on every word you say. You’re our leader whether you’re on the field or not.”

Steve feels his face heat up and he looks away, uncertain at how to respond to that. He readjusts his headset, letting a real smile steal across his face.

"Captain to Sarge. Find anything?"

Bucky taps his earpiece, "possibly. Batman is collecting samples now."

“Make sure he collects enough for Iron Man to run some tests on it too."

"On it," Bucky says.

Bruce is hunched over a bouquet of brightly colored flowers. Bucky has never seen Batman surrounded by so much color. It looks faintly ridiculous. Dick at least looks more camouflaged than ever surrounded by all the greens, reds, and yellows. Perhaps there were some benefits to his costume after all.

Bucky leans over Bruce's shoulder. The sweet earthy scent of the flowers is almost overpowering this close.

"Cap wants to make sure you collect double samples of everything."

He receives a grunt in response. Bruce is on edge. He's not used to having a teammate so vulnerable and he's definitely not used to Steve's tiny tough guy attitude. Bucky almost feels sorry for him. Finishing his work, Bruce stands. He has a collection of carefully organized seed and pollen samples, which he tucks away in his belt.

"We should get back to the cave." Bruce says, then looks around, "where's Robin?"

"Here I am," Dick pokes his head out of the backroom.

"Find anything?" Bucky asks.

"More seeds. Frozen seeds," Dick says. He holds up a bag of icy seeds.

"Mr. Freeze." Bruce says.

"We never did find out why he, Poison Ivy, and the Joker were working together that night." Bucky says as they pack up.

"It's not like the Joker to play nice with anyone," Dick says thoughtfully, "unless he's planning something big."

Bucky watches as worry passes over Dick’s face and resists the urge to sling his arm over the boy’s shoulders and tell him that The Joker is just a no good punk. Dick hates being treated like a kid almost as much as Steve hates being treated as an invalid.

"Gordon already agreed to let me interrogate Ivy tomorrow night." Bruce says, "we'll find out exactly what they're planning then."

They head back to the lab where they can divvy up the samples, Bruce carefully labelling each one. Steve examines each sample wondering which one of the innocent looking bits of seeds and powder is responsible for his current condition.

The clock strikes five AM.

"Want a lift back to Metropolis?" Clark asks. Steve looks up from his pack of seeds.

"You don't mind?"

"Nah, I've got to take Krypto out before work anyway."

Steve hesitates. He does need to get the seeds into Tony’s hands and a few hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt either. Yet, he can’t leave Gotham with the case still unresolved. It’s just not in him to leave things unfinished.

As if reading his thoughts Clark grins, "Come on. I'll fly you back after work."

“Alright,” Steve allows and Clark wraps an arm around his waist. The air above Gotham is chilly and heavy with the threat of rain. Steve breathes it all in as deeply as his stuttering lungs will permit.

All too soon Clark drops him off on the roof of his apartment. He lingers there watching daylight slowly creep up over the city skyline. It’s long after Clark has disappeared from sight that Steve thinks to move and realizes his predicament; he’s not entirely sure how to get down from here. He leans over the edge of the roof. Nine stories is a long way down. He could call for Clark, but then he would have to admit that he’s stuck. His ears burn in embarrassment at the thought. Besides nine stories isn't so bad.

Steve eases one leg over the side, dropping inch by inch until he feels the window ledge under his shoe. With great care, his left leg joins the right one. Hanging onto the thin window ledge, his arms shake with exertion.

Not trusting himself to let go with one hand to pull the window open, he tries wedging his foot into the open gap. A slight breeze makes him wobble and he clings tighter to the side of the building. After a few heart pounding moments where Steve feels his fingers slowly beginning to lose their grip, he gets the window open. Steve flings himself inside, putting no thought into gracefulness. He tumbles into his bed, startling one of the cats.

"Sorry Peggy," he murmurs offering a scratch behind the ears before heading into the kitchen. His stomach grumbles, but he pushes it away. Food and sleep can come after he drops off the samples to Tony. Yawning, he pushes a button. In a flash of red, he appears in Tony’s kitchen.

He doesn't wait for Friday to announce him, heading straight to Tony's lab. Despite the odd hour, he’s unsurprised to see both Tony and Bruce there, pouring over complicated looking notes.

"Cap! What brings you to my humble abode?" Tony asks cheerfully.

"Any updates?"

A guilty frown tugs on Tony's lips.

"Not yet," he admits, "Mrs. Swamp Thing is a bit cleverer than I gave her credit for."

Steve nods, expecting as much.

"We did find some low level gamma radiation on the pollen and we're pursuing that angle," Bruce says.

"That’s good, would more data help?" Steve asks. He holds up the seeds. Tony snatches them out of his hands.

"Hell yes it does," Tony says. He immediately begins analyzing the bag as Steve fills Bruce in on how they were acquired.

"Bruce, look at this gamma concentration," Tony waves them both over, "I told you that it wasn't residual radiation."

Bruce adjusts the screen for a better look, frowning thoughtfully. Next to him, Tony is a flurry of motion as he begins writing down a string of numbers. From there theories and jargon fly over Steve's head. Bruce politely tries explaining them to him but Tony interrupts.

"Don't worry short fry. Give us a little more time and we'll have you back to your old beefcake self."

Steve rolls his eyes, but there's no heat in it. "Thanks guys."

Tony and Bruce walk him back to the kitchen, still bandying ideas back in forth over his head. Steve's pretty sure they don't even notice him slipping away.

Standing in his kitchen, Steve breathes in the peaceful silence. Sleep is calling him, but he grabs a bagel on his way past. He collapses into bed, asleep almost immediately. He’s awoken a solid eight hours later by a thump from the other room.

Clark is waiting for him in the kitchen, Krypto lying at his feet. The dog rolls on his back at Steve's arrival, begging for affection, which Steve happily gives. He raises an eyebrow at Clark.

“I didn’t want to leave him alone all evening again.” Clark says.

Steve smiles. Clark has taken to pet ownership just as well as Bucky predicted he would. And Krypto has come a long way since his adoption under Clark's and Bucky's careful training. He hardly chases cats with super speed anymore.

"Any updates?" Clark asks. Steve shrugs.

"When I left, they were babbling about gamma radiation. I think that's a good thing?"

Steve stands up. Krypto barks, rearing on his back legs in annoyance at the loss of attention.

"Down boy." Clark tugs on the leash. To Steve he asks, "ready to go?"

Steve nods. Clark lifts off and, taking a clue from his master, so does Krypto. There's complete freedom in the air that can never be found on the ground and, to Steve’s delight, Krypto makes the most of it. He zigs and zags across the sky, tugging on Clark's cape when he flies too slow and bothering birds as they flutter past. Clark struggles to keep him controlled as Steve laughs.

They touch down in Gotham. Alfred doesn't say anything as he lets them inside, but he does give the dog a downright suspicious glare as if daring him to make a mess of the pristine manor. Krypto doesn't seem to notice as he greets the elderly butler with enthusiastic jumping until Clark manages to calm him down. Steve leaves Clark apologizing to Alfred in the front hall.

The batcave is silent.

"Hello?" Steve calls, stepping into the dim cavern.

Bucky looks up from the computer, "Bruce and Dick got a call from Gordon. It's a robbery."

"Do they need backup?" Steve asks.

"Not for a minor bank robbery. They should be back soo-"

His words are cut off by the emergency line switching on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is gone. Bruce, Bucky and Clark spring into action.

Steve grabs an earpiece and switches it on, “Batman respond.”

"Trap." Bruce's voice is clipped and ragged. Heavy breathing echoes over the open line, too tightly controlled to be normal.

"What's your status?"

"Robin is gone."

Steve feels his heart jump into his throat. Next to him he can hear the crunch of Bucky squeezing the arm of his chair too hard. The flimsy plastic giving away to his panicked grip.

"What?" Steve's voice comes out as more a shocked rasp than he means it too. Dick, boundlessly energetic Dick can't just be _gone_. It’s impossible, Steve refuses to believe it.

"Joker," Bruce grunts. They can hear him moving, fighting through the pain. "Joker took him."

Took. Not killed. Steve and Bucky share a look; there’s still hope.

"I'm on my way back to the cave," Bruce says roughly.

"What happened to you?"

"Stabbed," Bruce grunts, "Explain more at the cave. Batman out."

The line cuts off before Steve can ask him where he was stabbed and just how badly he's bleeding. Bucky is already moving to the well-stocked medical supply cabinet, grabbing disinfectant and thread.

Steve spins his chair back to the computer and starts typing. Bruce, in a fit of parental wisdom, had a tracker sewn into every uniform Dick has. Dick had complained about the intrusion on his privacy and Bruce had threatened to sew trackers into his daywear as well. Steve isn't fully convinced that Bruce didn't follow through on the threat.

A map of Gotham pops up on the screen. With a few more clicks Steve pulls up a green flashing dot and breathes a sigh of relief. Green means vital signs are within normal perimeters.

As Steve watches the dot, Krypto bounds down the stairs, Clark shouting at him to heel all the way. The shouts and barking both die away as Clark enters the cave. His eyes move between Dick’s tracker on the screen and the medical supplies Bucky is holding.

"What happened?" Clark asks.

"The Joker has Dick," Steve says, "Bruce is on his way back now."

"And Bruce was stabbed," Bucky adds.

Clark turns back to the map. The dot is heading out of the city. He could be at their location in minutes. His feet leave the ground.

"No." Steve says his eyes not leaving the screen, "Bruce didn't give us the go ahead and he mentioned a trap. Nobody goes and risks making a hostage situation worse until we have more information."

Clark lands back on the ground. The three men stand in stiff silence, staring intently at the green dot onscreen; all the proof they have that Dick is still alive. The batmobile rumbles as it pulls into the cave. Bruce stumbles out, his face pale under the cowl. Dark red drips from beneath a makeshift bandage around his shoulder and there's a slight limp as he moves across the room. He focuses on the green dot with a desperate pair of eyes.

"What happened?" Clark asks as he steadies him. Bucky begins peeling away the bandage and disinfecting the deep slice. Bruce hardly notices the sting.

"It was a trap. The Joker and Mr. Freeze were waiting for us." Bruce growls, "they went straight for Dick."

"Why?" Bucky asks.

"Because the Joker is sick," Bruce growls, "and he wanted to make sure I'd follow him."

The dot stops just outside of the city limits. Bruce's expression darkens.

"Bruce?" Clark prompts after a few moments of silence.

"What happens when you phone a clown three times?" Bruce says softly.

"Pardon?"

Bruce jerks as if remembering the others are there.

"The last thing Joker said before I passed out," Bruce says, "and what you get is a three-ring circus."

All eyes drift back to the map.

"The old circus grounds," Clark says. Bruce nods.

"Let's go."

"Woah pal, you got stabbed," Bucky says stepping in front of him. "Why don't you stay here and man the comms."

Bruce glares at him, "No."

He steps around Bucky who catches him by his good arm.

"I patched you up, but you can't actually fight like this."

“Yes, I can,” Bruce snaps, tugging his arm away, “You and Superman are not enough for someone like The Joker.”

“Bruce you can trust us,” Steve says, “We’ll get Dick back.”

Bruce turns and fixes Steve with a hard stare, “You are staying here.”

"But I ca-"

“No you can’t!” Bruce interrupts, “Not with Dick’s life on the line. What if you have an asthma attack or your allergies act up? You could blow the whole mission.”

Steve opens his mouth, but Bruce isn't done.

“You’re going to get Dick killed if you go out there trying to be someone you’re not anymore.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up with embarrassment. He’s knows Bruce doesn’t mean it like that, knows that Bruce is terrified about Dick and lashing out. That doesn’t stop it from hurting though. Steve swallows down the pain; he can worry about his feelings later. Right now, with Dick’s life on the line, they don’t have time for this.

“I’ll man the comms, you guys go.” Steve says.

"Bruce still can't go. He's been stabbed," Clark says.

"It's my son. Just try to stop me," Bruce growls. He sweeps across the room before anyone can stop him, jumping back into the batmobile and peeling out.

"Steve..." Bucky starts but Steve shakes his head.

"He's not thinking clearly. Go out and make sure he doesn't get himself killed," Steve says, "both of you, go."

Steve watches them leave. Anxiety gnaws at him as he takes his seat in front of the computer. Bruce is injured and afraid and that makes him a liability in the field. He shouldn’t be out, but trying to talk Bruce out of racing to Dick’s side would be like trying to talk a young Steve Rogers out of joining the army. He can only hope that Bucky and Clark can hold Bruce together long enough to rescue Dick.

Steve puts on the headphones and listens in over the comms. Bruce is silent, save for the occasional grunt when he moves his injured arm too fast. Clark can be heard quietly filling Bucky in on the abandoned circus grounds of Gotham. After The Joker first showed up, clowns and the circus motif’s took a serious dive in popularity. With business drying up most traveling circuses avoided the city as much as possible, Dick’s former home being the rare exception. A mistake that no other circus has repeated since.

Bruce pulls up to the circus grounds. He races to the brightly colored tent, ignoring Steve’s voice in his ear that commands him to wait and tells him that Bucky and Clark are only minutes away. This isn’t their fight; it’s his.

Shortly after, Clark and Bucky land to an eerily silent circus. Above them looms a giant tent with faded red and yellow stripes. Smaller tents and rickety booths dot the abandoned grounds. Bucky rolls his shoulders, feeling tense and unbalanced by the unsettling atmosphere. Even as a kid he’s never cared for circuses – though he’d die before telling that to Dick – there’s just something about all the bright lights and sparkling costumes. It feels fake; like a lie.

"Batman report," Clark demands.

Silence.

"Batman? Batman!" Clark says. Bucky and Clark share worried looks. Then Clark shoots into the air towards the big top. Bucky takes off running behind him. From over the comms, Steve urges them to be cautious but neither are paying attention. Adrenaline and fear push the onwards.

They burst into the tent teeth bared and ready for a fight. It’s empty. Clark lands, looking around the large circular room. Along the edges are empty benches and, in the middle, where performers once stood, is a lead coffin. On top is sits an envelope. Bucky and Clark run over and Clark tears it open. In messy red scrawl he reads.

_“What type of circus performer performs best at night?"_

Bucky shrugs, frowning. Clark reads it again.

"Acro- _bats_." Steve's voice crackles over the comm. Bucky and Clark stare at the coffin lid as it clicks.

"Batman." Clark grabs the lid and pushes with all his might. His mind races as he thinks off all the potential things he might find inside. Does the casket have air holes? Does it matter at this point? He pushes against the lid. It tips away clattering to the ground. A wave of nausea washes over Clark. Inside, a mannequin in a poorly made batman costume lay. Surrounding him, kryptonite glows a neon green.

"No!" Clark stumbles back. His head spins and his stomach flips over as he tries to keep his balance. Bucky grabs lid, trying to pull it back into place. An sudden icy beam hits the coffin lid, freezing it solid. Bucky grunts, dropping it as Mr. Freeze steps into view. He’s not Bucky’s first pick of a villain to fight, but one glance at Clark and he knows there’s no other choice.

Mr. Freeze is surprisingly spry for a man who walks around in a suit straight out of a dime store sci-fi novel, but Bucky is faster. Cold air ruffles his hair as he dodges another icy blast. He grabs the frozen lid and uses it as a shield, knocking the gun out of Mr. Freeze’s hands. Bucky grabs him by the collar.

"Where are Batman and Robin?" He growls. Mr. Freeze smirks.

"Why so angry?" He asks, "I think you need to chill out."

He giggles at his own cleverness, even as Bucky gives him a rough shake. Mr. Freeze drops his hand into his pocket. Bucky doesn’t notice, distracted over his worry for his missing teammates. A small blue pistol is tugged free of the pocket. Mr. Freeze smirks, and then he fires. Bucky yelps as frost crystalizes across his chest. He drops Mr. Freeze as memories rush over him.

He's cold, so cold. Hydra always keeps him cold. Even when they thaw him out, he's never really warm. He stares at the ice covering his body. Hydra must be putting him back in cryo-freeze. He must have completed his mission. He can't remember what it was...Something- no, someone- is screaming in his ear. He blinks. It's Steve's voice, demanding an update from anyone. Through the haze Bucky tries to reply.

"Icy..." he mumbles.

"Bucky! Buck, focus." Steve says in his ear, "What is happening? Are you ok? Are the others?"

Bucky blinks. He’s not in a cryo-tube, he’s in an abandoned circus. He’s in Gotham, far from Hydra’s reach. Steve is still talking in his ear, still demanding a report.

“It’s not good,” Bucky says. Out of the corner of his eye he spots movement. Mr. Freeze is going for his freeze ray. Bucky pulls himself together and dives for it. He’s too slow. Ice frosts over his skin. He stares at it, mesmerized. Mr. Freeze pulls the trigger again and more ice wraps itself around him. He’s so cold. He can’t stop shivering. His legs re frozen into place. Mr. Freeze fires again and Bucky gasps for breath as his chest freezes. This is just like the cryo-tube. He chokes. He’s back with hydra. He’s at the circus. Steve is shouting from a train as Bucky falls. Steve is shouting in his ear over the comms. He has to focus. He can’t.

"Goodbye Sergeant," Mr. Freeze sneers. Bucky looks around desperately. The only thing he sees is Clark, lying on the ground unconscious, bathed in the green glow of kryptonite. Mr. Freeze pulls the trigger. Bucky screams, then everything goes black.

"Hello? Hello?" Steve's voice echoes over the silent comms. He sits back in the chair with a grim expression on his face. Best case scenario; they’ve all been captured. Worst case…Steve would rather not think about that. His team, his friends need him; to save them or avenge them, Steve’s not sure which yet. Either way, he can’t stay here. He takes off the headset and grabs one of Dick's domino masks. Krypto perks up from his place by Steve's chair.

"Come on Krypto," Steve says standing up, "we’ve got work to do."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is off to the rescue. But will he be enough?

The batcave holds more than just the batmobile. There are several vehicle prototypes, all designed to maneuver around Gotham’s narrow city streets with optimal efficiency. Steve chooses a bat themed motorcycle that he can’t ever imagine Bruce actually using.

"Get in." Steve says, motioning to the sidecar that he assumes is meant for Dick. Krypto stares at him. Steve is neither Clark nor Bucky, the only two people Krypto usually listens to.

"You wanna see Clark?" Steve asks. At the mention of his master, Krypto perks up, his tail thumping on the ground.

"Come on. Get in and we'll go see Clark."

Krypto leaps into the sidecar, tail wagging. Steve straddles the bike. It's big, his toes barely reach the ground and he balances precariously. After a panicked moment where the motorcycle almost topples on top of him, he gets it started and takes off.

He zips through the crowded city streets. Besides him Krypto's tongue flaps in the breeze. At least someone is enjoying themselves. Worry grips at Steve's heart. The Joker is sick and twisted and with a madman like Mr. Freeze egging him on then he's capable of just about anything.

He pulls up to the old circus grounds, stashing the bike out of sight. Krypto follows, sniffing the air before issuing a low growl. Steve hushes him. They don't have much going for them, but they do have the element of surprise.

Steve skirts along the edge of the Big Top. Behind the main tent he finds a smaller, equally as colorful, one. He approaches, but the sound of footsteps freezes him in his tracks. At his side Krypto tenses. With a split second to make a decision Steve grabs hold of Krypto's collar.

"Up," he commands. Krypto rises into the air, easily lifting Steve up along the way. Gripping the collar with all his might Steve dangles precariously dozens of feet in the air. Below him, Mr. Freeze exits the small tent.

Steve's heart pounds, at any moment Mr. Freeze could glance up and see them. Steve prays that Mr. Freeze will continue on his way but he lingers outside as if keeping guard. Fingers screaming in pain and arms beginning to shake, Steve feels himself slipping. Ever the clever dog, Krypto must notice as well. He floats through the air, landing with a soft thump on top of the smaller tent. Steve releases his death grip on the collar with a grateful sigh. Flexing his hands, Steve peeks over the edge.

Clark and Bucky have been working with Krypto on various commands. With Krypto's powers and unusual intelligence for a dog, Clark has been hoping to train him in search and rescue. Additionally, his brief stint with Luthor has made Krypto a capable attack dog, much to Bucky and Clark's dismay. Privately, Steve hopes that Krypto remembers those lessons as he leans down and whispers in Krypto's ear.

"Attack."

Krypto tenses and whines. Nobody has given him that command since his rescue. For a second Steve fears he won't do it. Krypto stares at him with intelligent eyes, as if trying to read Steve's intentions with the command. Steve looks back evenly, holding his breath. Then, Krypto leaps off the tent and attacks the only other living thing in sight.

Mr. Freeze disappears under a mass of white fur with a shriek. His hand reaches for his freeze ray only to find his arm locked in the vice-like maul of Krypto. Krypto shakes his head, slobber flying as Mr. Freeze struggles to break free. _Snap_. Mr. Freeze's arm bends unnaturally.

"Up," Steve commands and Krypto shoots into the air, dragging Mr. Freeze by his broken elbow. He flies to Steve's position in the roof. Mr. Freeze blinks at him, in shock and pain. Steve can tell by the blankness on his face that Mr. Freeze doesn't recognize him.

Steve grabs some of the rope holding the tent together and wraps it around Mr. Freeze's wrists, not bothering to be gentle.

"Who are you?" Mr. Freeze demands to know, glancing warily at Krypto, whose teeth are bared. Steve ignore the question as he moves to bind Mr. Freeze's ankles next. When Steve is convinced that Mr. Freeze is properly secured, he searches him. There are several miniature freeze rays and ice guns that Steve disposes of and a set of keys he hangs on to, just to be safe. Satisfied that Mr. Freeze is no longer a threat Steve grabs hold of Krypto's collar and gives the command for down.

Good boy!" Steve takes a moment to scratch Krypto behind the ears.

Steve looks between the Big Top and the smaller tent. The Joker is dramatic enough to want the center stage feel that the Big Top provides, but Mr. Freeze had clearly been guarding something in the smaller tent. After some deliberation, Steve decides to check the smaller tent out first.

With Krypto on his heels, Steve pulls back the flap. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness within. He breathes in the faint smell of stale cotton candy. Steve creeps further inside. Krypto let's out a low whine.

In the middle of the tent sit two lion cages with peeling red and gold paint. Steve's eyes flicker over them, but stop when they catch the faintest green glow within one. Looking around, he can see even more kryptonite dotting the room.

Krypto whimpers pressing closer to Steve.

"I know boy. I'm not a fan of kryptonite either," Steve says reaching down to pat his head.

Keeping to the shadows, Steve crosses the deserted tent. At one point in history this tent had spent its nights entertaining with a variety of shows to thrill and amaze. Now it sits cold and empty. Dust lays thick on the stands that had once held bustling crowds and the lights above have lost most of their luster to the years. Steve steps over a poster advertising a long since retired juggler that lay faded and ripped on the ground.

Steve has only been to a circus once, back before the war. Back when he thought the most impressive show of bravery, he would ever see is a man taming a lion. It had been dazzling. And even now, its sparkle extinguished, there's still something hauntingly beautiful about the circus.

Steve stops in front of one of the cages and peeks inside. There, encased in a block of ice, lay Bucky. Steve gasps. He fumbles for the keys and with shaking hands unlocks the cage door.

"Oh Buck," Steve whispers, staring at Bucky's face. It has a look of fear frozen in place. Steve places his hand on the block of ice and feels the cold bite his skin.

"Krypto," he calls. Krypto flies into the cage. He cocks his head at the sight of Bucky and lands at his side. He barks and then barks again when he gets no response from Bucky. He looks back up at Steve and whimpers.

"I know boy. I don't like it either," Steve says. He pets Krypto as he thinks. There's nothing keeping the ice stable and even on a cool fall day like this, the ice will eventually melt without Mr. Freeze to maintain it. Yet that will take hours, unless...Steve glances at Krypto.

"Krypto," Steve says in his most commanding voice. He waits until he's sure Krypto is paying attention before continuing.

"Heat vision. Gently now," Steve says, pointing at Bucky. For a moment Krypto just stares and then a thin beam of red hot heat vision shoots from his eyes to the block of ice. Steam begins to rise as a puddle of melting ice grows. Steve would like to stay and watch, but he knows that Bucky isn’t the only one who needs help.

Trusting Krypto to keep working, Steve slips out of the cage. He pulls himself up, gripping tight to the bars, and looks inside the other cage. Through the gloom he sees the glow of kryptonite and, amidst the many scattered pieces, Clark. His pale face is bathed in the eerie green glow and his breathes come out in harsh short breaths.

"Superman!" Steve says, but Clark gives no reaction. Steve unlocks the cage door. He scrambles inside, skinny arms pulling himself into the raised cage. Once inside he gathers up the pieces, throwing them as far as he can out of the cage. It's a pathetically short distance, but it's enough. Clark groans.

"Superman!" Gently, Steve wraps an arm around Clark's shoulders. He leans Clark against the side of the cage as Clark blinks back into alertness.

"Cap?"

"It's me. What happened?" Steve asks as he checks Clark over. There aren't any injuries, but there's a green tinge to his skin that tells of prolonged exposure to kryptonite.

"Ambush. The Joker expected all of us."

"And Dick?" Steve asks, his stomach tightening.

"Alive last I saw. The Joker took them to the Big Top." Clark says and then grimaces. He fights through a wave of dizziness, "Sorry. The Joker has kryptonite everywhere."

Steve stands up and reaches out a hand, "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Clark hesitates, but realizing that even sitting up is proving difficult, he takes Steve's hand. Steve slips an arm around Clark's waist, taking on the extra weight Clark's legs are reluctant to bear. Slowly, they head towards the cage door, Steve's back protests the added weight and his legs threaten to send both of them stumbling to the ground, but Steve soldiers on.

"Wait, Sarge!" Clark says.

"Don't worry, already handling it," Steve says. "Right Krypto!"

A cheery bark echoes from Bucky's cage, along with the sizzling sound of heat vision.

"You brought my dog on a rescue operation?"

Steve shrugs as best he can from under Clark's arm.

"I needed backup and Alfred was busy." He grins cheekily.

It's slow work moving across the tent and the kryptonite scattered about the room continues to drain Clark the longer he remains inside. Steve glances behind them at krypto guiltily. He doubts the poor dog is feeling much better, but loyal to a fault, Krypto stays by Bucky’s side. Steve would also prefer to stay. He wants to be there when Bucky wakes up, but Clark needs him more.

"Not much further," Steve promises, kicking a chunk of kryptonite out of the way. Clark nods, his eyes hazy with pain. They reach the tent flap and step outside. As soon as the sun hits Clark's face, he begins to heal. His headache recedes, his strength begins returning to his limbs. He takes a moment to soak in the rays before turning to Steve.

"Alright, what's the plan?"

"First we see what exactly we're dealing with."

The pair sneak across the circus grounds towards the Big Top.

"Use your x-ray vision. What do you see?" Steve says.

Clark stares at the red fabric. Nothing happens. He concentrates harder at seeing through the molecules of the fabric to the scene inside. His head gives a sudden throb and he winces.

"Sorry, the kryptonite is still messing with me."

Steve gives him an understanding nod and slips ahead. He draws back the flap ever so slightly and peeks inside. What he sees makes him shake with fury.

Bruce tied to the center pole, blood dripping down his face from beneath his cowl and The Joker in front of him howling with laughter, a switch blade in his hand. Though Bruce doesn't seem bothered by the blade, he's not even looking at The Joker. Instead his eyes look upward, a look of unabashed terror on his face. Steve follows his gaze. He gasps.

There on a trapeze bar high above the circus is Dick. He's struggling in a way Steve has never seen Dick struggle in the air before. His movements are slow and clunky and he fights to keep a grip on the solitary trapeze bar. Even from this distance Steve can tell, Dick has been drugged. And the longer they stand out here doing nothing, the more likely it is that Dick will plunge to his death.

Steve does a quick scan of the room. There's nobody else around. The Joker must not have wanted to share his moment of triumph.

Steve's mind races, taking in all possibilities. He glances back at Clark who is still unsteady on his feet. He can barely stand, let alone fly, and Steve can't discount the possibility of more kryptonite inside the big top. With Clark unable to help, Steve peeks back inside, searching for a way to bring Dick down safely. He eyes the trapeze. The bar is held in place by ropes which lead to a pulley attached to the top of the tent and then down to a towering platform. On the platform Steve can see levers that control the trapeze ropes. He pulls his head out of the tent.

"You distract the Joker and free Batman. I'll save Robin."

Clark straightens, a determined glint in his eyes tell Steve that no amount of Kryptonite is going to stand between him and Bruce.

"Be careful," Steve feels compelled to add.

"You too."

Then, almost as fast as a speeding bullet, Clark darts inside. Steve waits just long enough to be sure that the Joker's full attention will be on Clark before he too disappears beneath the flap. Keeping to the edges of the tent, Steve keeps his eyes firmly on Dick while his ears listen in on the fight.

He curses the fact that he was right; The Joker does have more kryptonite...but Clark isn't stopping. He delivers a bone shattering punch to The Joker's ribcage even as The Joker pulls out a second switchblade, one that glows green and bites through superhuman flesh.

Steve forces himself to ignore Clark's cry of pain. He reaches the bottom of the platform and looks up, it's a long climb. He hoists himself up onto the ladder. Years of neglect have made it rickety and unstable. Even under Steve's slight weight, the ladder creaks. Ignoring the groaning of the wood and the sway each movement brings, Steve climbs upwards.

Dick clings to the metal bar. His fingers, slick with sweat continue to slip, forcing him to continually readjust his grip. His arms burn and his head feels cotton stuffed. He tries to remember how he got here but can't. The only thing that comes to mind is The Joker's twisted grin and horrid laughter echoing in his ears. There's chaos around him, but Dick can't focus on it. All of his rapidly fading attention is directed solely on the slippery cold bar beneath his hands.

Steve crawls onto the platform. It wobbles dangerously and Steve prays it won't collapse before he's gotten Dick to safety. He looks at the levers, the labels on them long faded to illegibility. His fingers hover over one uncertainly. One wrong move on his part could jerk the trapeze and send Dick tumbling to his death. He glances at Dick, who hasn't noticed him yet.

Below the fighting has intensified. Someone, and Steve can't see who, crashes into the platform ladder, causing the whole structure to shudder. Steve squares his shoulders. He doesn't have time to waste. He tugs on one of the levers. It sticks at first before moving with a rusty creak.

The trapeze sways wildly and Dick shouts as he nearly lets go. Then he hears the clicking sound of the trapeze bar being lowered towards the platform. Inch by painfully slow inch, Dick moves towards safety. Steve reaches out, ready to grab him and pull him the rest of the way in. Neither notice, the rope above them fraying more with each movement.

"Almost there Robin. You're doing great," Steve says. Dick blinks at him, realizing that he's there for the first time. He swings, urging the trapeze to move faster. He wants to be off this horrible thing now.

"Steady," Steve says, "I can almost reach."

He stretches out as far as he can. He falls short by only a few inches.

_Snap!_

The rope breaks. For a heartbeat Dick feels like he's floating and then the full force of gravity grabs ahold of him. He's falling. He's going to die in a sick twisted parody to the way his parents died. He hopes Bruce isn't watching.

Steve doesn't think. He dives towards the edge of the platform. His fingers lock around Dick's wrist. The sudden weight pulls Steve's shoulder from his socket. He screams, but he doesn't let go.

"I've got you," he pants. Even to his own ears he doesn't sound very reassuring. Dick stares up at him with terror filled eyes behind his domino mask.

Now that Dick is no longer actively falling Steve realizes he has another problem; he can't pull Dick up. He reaches deep into reserves of strength that just don't exist anymore and comes up empty. His shoulder protests his weak attempts.

Steve looks around for a way out of the situation and draws a blank. If he were still The Captain he'd be able to lift Dick with ease, but he's not. He's just tiny Steve Rogers and tiny Steve Rogers can't deadlift over a hundred pounds of weight with a bad shoulder.

Steve feels himself beginning to slip off the platform, his chest slowly becoming exposed to open air and a 50 foot drop as he slides forward. He can see the exact second Dick realizes it as well. His eyes widen and his mouth twists with horror and regret.

"Let go," Dick says. Steve stares at him. Does Dick really think that's an option? That Steve can just let him plunge to his death?

"Let go," Dick repeats, "it's okay. I'm not scared."

That is a bold face lie. Fear covers every inch of his expression.

"Not going to happen," Steve grunts.

"Please, we'll both fall if you don't let go!"

Steve feels himself slip another inch. His legs kick, desperately trying to anchor him to the rickety platform.

"Then we're both going over," Steve says. Dick shakes his head.

"No!" He squirms in Steve's grasp.

"Stop it!" Steve commands. Dick ignores him.

"The Justice League can't lose The Captain!"

Stupid child, Steve thinks. Bruce can't lose a son. Alfred can't lose a grandson. Bucky can't lose a fellow cat lover. Clark can't lose the boy who loves to fly. Steve can't lose the only person who never stopped seeing him as The Captain. The world can't lose Robin, but more importantly the world can't lose _Dick Grayson._

"It’s okay Cap," Dick says earnestly, "I've got some good people waiting for me on the other side."

Steve feels like he's been slapped. He clings tighter to Dick's wrist, even as Dick intensifies his struggling to break free. Grunting at the added pressure, Steve vows to have a long talk about the consequences of self-sacrifice with him later. If they get to have a later.

Steve slips further. A few more inches and they'll both go tumbling to their deaths. He wants to apologize for not being strong enough, but his lungs are beginning to seize up from the exertion. The platform sways. From somewhere, he can hear Krypto barking.

Suddenly there's a voice behind him, cursing. Then a metal hand grabs him by the back of his shirt and lifts him up. A second, human hand, reaches around to pluck Dick up as well.

"Idiots," Bucky grunts hauling them to the relative safety of the ledge. He eyes them both critically as if afraid one or both of them is about to fling themselves over the side. Steve takes his silence as an opportunity to check him out as well. He's damp and shivering. There's a tinge of blue to his lips that doesn't seem healthy. He's conscious though and Steve couldn't be happier.

Steve looks over the ledge to check on the others. Below, Krypto has The Joker cornered, snapping and snarling at him. Clark and Bruce look likely they are barely holding each other up, yet they are standing and that's enough for now.

"Buck, go tie up The Joker. Then call the police," Steve says.

Bucky looks hesitant to leave them. Steve gives him the reassuring smile he can muster. It's not very good, and the look on Bucky's face tells him so. Still, he moves to comply.

Steve turns to Dick, "Come on kid, let's get down from here."

He reaches over and ruffles Dick's hair, feeling nearly giddy with relief. They're alive. They're all alive.

The course of justice moves swiftly after that. Commissioner Gordon arrives with a troop of squad cars. The Joker is led away in handcuffs while Batman pretends that he isn't bleeding and gives his report. Then Steve ushers them into the batmobile, taking the driver's seat. Nobody argues with him. Bruce slips into the back seat, wrapping his arm protectively around his boy. Dick leans into the touch, drifting off to the familiar rumble of the batmobile.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is proud of his team.

There had been a time when the batcave had only one medical emergency cot, for the times when Bruce was too injured to make the climb back to the manor and Alfred was forced to tend to his wounds in the cave. With the arrival of Dick, came a second bed. It’s a rare occurrence that both should be so injured at once, but Bruce is nothing if not prepared. Three more beds are the latest addition to the batcave, one specifically modified with a UV ray light fixture above it. Never had all beds been used at once, but they were all there, just in case.

Steve passes by the empty bed meant for him, and heads towards the four occupied beds. He looks over his patients with a critical eye. Bucky, wrapped in a blanket, shivers with acute hypothermia and mild frost bite. Clark curls up under the UV rays with a severe case of kryptonite poisoning as well as slow healing kryptonite knife wounds. Dick fidgets as the last of The Joker's drug wears off, otherwise unharmed save for a few bumps and bruises and a mild concussion. His final patient, Bruce, lays stiffly on his cot. His skull is fractured, he has a bad concussion, and deep lacerations cover his body. The Joker had taken his time, lovingly crafting scars into Bruce's body. He will heal though. They all will. Steve plans on making sure of it.

Steve stops at Bucky's bedside first. They are no strangers to hypothermia and the frost bite will heal. Bucky will likely be the first one to recover, but that doesn't mean Steve is happy seeing him in the medical bed.

"Alfred's bringing down hot tea," Steve says.

"That's not necessary. I'm fine," Bucky huffs. "It's not like I've never been frozen before."

A haunted look lingers in his eyes. Honestly Steve is more concerned about the mental toll freezing took on him then the physical one. He keeps that concern to himself however. Instead, he grins.

"Consider this revenge for all the times you kept me in bed when I was fine."

"That's because you were never actually fine," Bucky scoffs. Steve laughs, but doesn't correct him.

"Drink the tea," Steve says. "It will make Alfred feel better at least."

"Well, if it's for Alfred's sake... I suppose I can have a few sips," Bucky allows with a shrug, his lips twitching.

"Good," Steve says. He grabs a blanket and spreads it over the other blankets already burying the man. Bucky glares.

"Steve," he grumbles, but nestles deeper into his cocoon of fleece.

"It makes me feel better."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but his face softens.

"Go bother the others," he says. Steve smiles.

"Don't worry, I plan to."

Steve leaves Bucky's bedside, safe in the knowledge that Alfred will be down soon to ply the man with enough piping hot tea to sate a battalion of men.

He stops at Clark's bedside next. Clark is propped up on a mountain of pillows with Krypto sprawled out across his master's lap. Krypto lifts his head at Steve's approach, his tail thumping on the bed. Clark offers him a tired smile.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asks, leaning over to scratch Krypto behind the ears.

"Like I have the flu," Clark says. Steve winces in sympathy.

"You'll be happy to know then that the GCPD collected all the kryptonite for disposal."

Clark breathes a sigh of relief, settling deeper into his mountain of pillows, "Good to know."

Steve watches him. Clark's still too pale and shivering even under the combined heat of the sun lamps and Krypto's body.

"I'm fine," Clark says, smiling weakly.

"I have a feeling I'm going to be hearing that a lot today."

As if sensing Steve's worry, Krypto raises his massive head and licks him.

"Down boy!" Steve laughs pushing him off. "Good to see the kryptonite won't have lasting effects on you either."

"He's recovering faster than I am," Clark says beaming at his dog.

"I noticed he seemed less affected by it at the circus," Steve says. "That could be useful if you ever decide to bring him out in the field."

"Like for fighting villains?" Clark asks. At Steve's nod, Clark stares down at his dog. His tail wags lazily back and forth and he blinks up at Clark, begging for a belly rub. Clark happily obliges.

"I can't do that. He's just a big goofball."

"A goofball with razor sharp claws and superpowers."

Clark inclines his head in acknowledgement, "He can be a reserve member, I suppose, but I don't think we should give full membership to anyone who still messes on the rug."

"Fair," Steve laughs, "Though he did make excellent backup. Couldn't have done it without him."

Clark looks at him thoughtfully, "Yes you could have."

Steve feels his face heat up and he reaches over to give Krypto one last pet before heading off to check on his next patient.

As Steve approaches he catches the sound of a quiet conversation happening in the last two beds.

"I'm fine B. Alfred's already smothering me. I don't need you doing it too," Dick whines and Steve hides a grin. He suspects it will be a long time before Bruce lets the poor boy out of his sight.

Bruce glances in Steve's direction and then back at Dick with a look that clearly says that they will finish their conversation later. He gives Steve a tired smile. Two cats are curled up on his bed, one nestled into his side and the other on his chest.

“I thought the cats weren’t allowed in the batcave,” Steve says.

Bruce scratches the black one beneath the chin, “Dick wanted them down here for comfort.”

Steve politely doesn’t mention that both cats are on his bed and not Dick’s.

"How's the head?" Steve asks instead. Bruce reaches up to gingerly scratch at the thick white bandage wrapped around his head.

"Healing," he says shortly. Steve gives him a once over. His pupils are dilated and mismatched, a sure sign of the concussion. Steve makes a note to keep a close eye on him for the rest of the night.

The silence stretches out between them as Steve does a check on the bandages. Not that Steve minds, he's grown to appreciate Bruce's quietness, a balancing contrast to Clark and Dick's chattiness. Just as Steve is finishing up, Bruce breaks the silence.

"Thank you," he grunts. He's not looking at Steve, rather past him at Dick who is laid up in his own bed.

"You know I'd do anything for that kid," Steve says.

"Still," Bruce says dropping his voice so Dick won't hear, "if anything ever happened to him..."

He breaks off looking stricken.

"Nothing happened," Steve reminds him gently.

"This time," Bruce says darkly, his eyes still flickering worriedly to his son. Steve gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze but can't offer him any further comfort. Their jobs are risky, and death is a constant specter looming in the background. He wants to promise that they will always keep Dick safe, but knows that nobody, not even Superman, can truly guarantee it. The best they can do is watch each other’s backs, like a real team.

Bruce lapses into silence, deep in thought, and Steve wanders over to his last patient of the day. Dick gives him a wide smile that morphs into a yawn. His eyes are still a bit glassy from whatever drug The Joker had injected him with. But Bruce has done numerous blood tests and has assured them with absolute certainty that there won't be any lasting damage.

"How's your shoulder?" Dick asks before Steve can open his mouth. Steve rotates it. It twinges, the pain lingering even after Bucky had snapped it back into place.

"Fine. I've had worse," Steve says. Dick nods, relief crossing his features.

“Still, sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad I caught you.”

"Thanks for that, and for not letting go," Dick says.

"Yeah, about that," Steve says taking a seat by his bedside and lowering his voice, "Do you want to explain yourself?"

He crosses his arms for added emphasis. He doubts he looks intimidating like this, but Dick lowers his eyes anyways, shame coloring his face.

"I didn't want you to die," Dick says. his voice barely reaches a whisper and Steve almost misses it.

"That wasn't your call."

"I know," Dick mumbles guiltily, "But what would happen to the Justice League without you?"

When Dick looks up, stubbornness burns in his eyes, pushing back the guilt. Steve scrubs a hand across his face.

"Some day the Justice League just might have to learn to get along without me," Steve says. "It's not your job to throw yourself on the wire for me."

"You'd do it for me," Dick says.

"That's different. You have your whole life ahead of you,” Steve says, “So don’t do it again, understood?”

Dick frowns but gives a terse nod. It’s enough for now, though Steve doubts that promise will hold as Dick grows. The silence between them is stiff and Steve doesn’t want to leave with Dick upset with him. He leans over, a conspiratorial smile on his face.

"Besides, we need you. Bucky has another batch of kittens that need homes and only you can convince Bruce to adopt more cats."

A small grin breaks out over Dick's face.

"Thank you," Dick says quietly, "… and thanks for not telling the others that I told you to drop me. Bruce would have a fit."

"Yeah well, I did my share of stupid stuff when I was your age. Some things are better not one’s mentioned to parents," Steve says. He pats Dick's knee.

"Now get some rest," he commands.

"Yes sir!" Dick says snuggling under his blanket with a yawn.

Steve stands up and looks proudly over his team. They are battered and bruised, but not broken. The Justice League will live to fight another day.

He clings to that feeling of pride over the next few weeks as the team and Steve adjusts to the new status quo. He stops asking Bruce for updates on his tests of Poison Ivy’s pollen and he doesn’t linger by the portal, secretly hoping for Tony to pop through with a cure, anymore. Instead of focusing on the past and what he’s lost, Steve looks to the future.

Unfortunately, the future looks complicated. Perry has been generous with giving Steve leave time, but that won't last forever, and Steve can't go back to the office looking like he shrunk. There will be too many questions.

Writing his resignation letter is hard. The Daily Planet helped this new world feel like home and it feels like a kick in the gut to leave it. The letter sits heavily in his pocket, but he can’t bring himself to turn it over to Clark just yet.

But things aren’t all bad, and Steve is careful to cherish the bright spots. He’s begun joining Bucky on his trips to the shelter. He understands why Bucky loves it so. There's a sort of peace here amongst the animals. There’s no judgment. Cats and dogs don't care how dark your past is or whether or not you can bench press a car. As long as you have a bowl of food in one hand a squeak toy in the other, they're happy. Steve could adjust to this sort of life.

And there are other things he’s not sure he will ever get used to. It stings every time The Justice League deploys without him. He mans the comms, giving guidance from the cave, but it not the same. He’s a soldier at heart and he wants to be on the front lines with the others, but he knows he’d be more of a liability than a help. Besides, this is still better than being excluded entirely. At least on the comms he can still help.

Steve sits in the living room. Colonel Philip curls up on his lap as Peggy nestles into his shoulder. Bucky’s at the store buying groceries and Steve is using the quiet afternoon to catch up on some of Bruce’s mission reports. Engrossed in reading, he doesn’t immediately notice the red light leaking out of the kitchen.

"Steve? Capsicle? You home?" Tony calls. Steve dislodges himself from the cats to greet his guest. Tony doesn't give him the chance to say more than “hello.” As soon as Steve's in the kitchen Tony has his fingers locked around his wrist while his other hand dances along the buttons on the portal box. In a beam of red light Steve finds himself in Stark Tower.

"Tony?"

Tony doesn’t answer, but Steve can feel him vibrating with suppressed excitement.

"Tony?" Steve tries again. His voice firmer. Tony just looks over his shoulder at him and grins even harder. He pushes open the doors to his lab and drags Steve through. Bruce looks up from his work, also grinning.

"Cap," he greets warmly.

“What’s going on guys?” Steve asks. There’s a feeling blossoming in his chest that feels a lot like hope, but he doesn’t dare say anything. It’s too fragile.

“We did it Cap,” Bruce says.

Steve's heart stutters. His eyes flick to Tony for confirmation that this isn’t a trick. They wouldn’t be so cruel. It could be a dream though.

"Ow!" Steve jerks as Tony pinches him.

"You looked like you didn't believe it was real." Tony says smugly and Steve can't find it in himself to even be annoyed.

"How did you guys do it?" He asks instead.

"Weed Lady isn't as smart as she thinks," Tony says, "We found a way to neutralize the effects of her pollen."

"And once her pollen is neutralized the serum will begin producing again." Bruce adds.

"So, you ready to have more muscles than you know what to do with again?" Tony asks.

"I'm ready to be able to breathe normally again," Steve says.

Tony leads him to a large glass tube. It looks like a Winter Soldier cryotube and Steve reflexively frowns at it. Tony doesn't notice, opening it and gesturing for Steve to step inside.

"Now just breathe deeply Cap" Tony says. Then door shuts, sealing itself with a hiss. For a few seconds all Steve can hear is the irregular pounding of his heart. Then he hears fans whirling and blue smoke pours in from the vents. Steve does his best to breathe deeply. The smoke tickles his throat and scratches his lungs. He coughs, deep heaving coughs that shake his shoulders.

Then the pain hits. His muscles seize and his skin burns, as if thousands of hot needles are being plunged into his skin. He screams. It feels like his bones are breaking as they rapidly grow and twist to accommodate his newly formed muscles. Everything hurts, but the pain is familiar, and despite his screams Steve is happy. The serum is changing him just like before.

The gas shuts off and the doors open. Steve stumbles out. He looks a mess; his pants are painfully tight and inches too short, his shirt is torn and hanging from him, and his hair looks like he just stepped out of a wind tunnel. But when he looks down he sees muscles rippling under healthy glowing skin and when he breathes there's no rattle in his chest.

He beams at Tony and Bruce.

"Thank you." He says sincerely. They both wave away his gratitude, like they haven't just given him back one of the greatest gifts of his life.

"The Captain is back." Steve says, still hardly daring to believe it.

Honestly Steve," Tony says fondly, rolling his eyes, "He never really left."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this series, I hope you enjoyed it! It's done for now, but someday I might jump back in with a quick story on how Dick convinced Bruce to let him adopt the cats.


End file.
